


Snow Covered Roads

by Alltheroads



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Deviates from the middle of Season 8, F/M, Fallen!Castiel, M/M, Not a typical amnesia story, lying, slow slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alltheroads/pseuds/Alltheroads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On what was supposed to be a normal hunt, Dean takes a hit to the head, and loses years of his memory. </p><p>Things get especially complicated when Sam makes Castiel promise that they won't tell Dean anything- nothing of all the grief, the pain, and the death that they've experienced in the recent years. At least until they can figure out how to tell Dean five years worth of hell. </p><p>Except when one Winchester keeps something from the other, things don't tend to work out for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love to my beautiful beta-reader, Losechester. She's what makes this story more bearable. <3

Waking up with tubes coming out of your arm is never the best way to start the day, Dean thinks. Of Course, being a hunter, these things happen more than you’d want them to. You get your ass kicked and you wake up in a hospital a few hours (or days) later. And it sucks, but you suck it up and move on. Since days have become more precious recently, Dean is a little more than pissed that he had reckless enough to actually end up being here. 

Christ, he can’t even remember what he had been hunting at the time. His muscles are sore, his right arm is broken, he has a headache to end all headaches, and even though he just woke up, he feels like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Slowly, Dean rises from his position to get a look around the hospital room. Nothing special really, just the standard room. 

Except instead of Sam holding a coffee cup and looking like he was gonna faint if he didn’t wake up soon, there’s some other guy in the room, one that Dean didn’t recognize. He’s not used to having guests other than Sam, especially when guests looked like they were beaten up nerdy looking dudes. His lip is split, there’s a tear in his jeans, blood around the knee, and from what Dean can see, his knuckles are bruised. Wherever this guy was, he was fighting, too. In a trench coat. Who the fuck fights wearing a trench coat?

When Dean catches the guy’s gaze, he seems to perk up a little. 

Immediately, Dean was put on edge. Underneath all those scratches and bruises, the guy seems pretty harmless. But ‘seems’ is a dumb word to rely on in the supernatural world. That Lilith bitch wore a little girl as a meat suit, after all. So it stands to reason that Dean braces himself for whatever attack may come. Even if he is still exhausted, and one arms is out of commission, he’s gotta prepare. 

Where the fuck is Sam? He thinks.

“Dean,” Trench Coat says, his voice gravelly. It’s not the sort of voice a guy his size should have. “You’re awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” He says, craning his neck to see if Sam is waiting outside, for whatever reason. “Couldn’t sleep forever.”

Trench Coat hums to himself, nodding.

“Yes,” He sounds pleased with Dean’s word. But after Trench Coat keeps staring at Dean, the pleased look is quickly replaced with one of concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Dean scoffs. Nothing gets passed this asshole, huh? ‘What’s wrong?’ He’s strapped to a hospital bed, and there’s no one to break him out of this dump. Oh, and there’s this really annoying guy who Dean doesn’t know, and is way too close for comfort. Whatever. 

“Nothing,” Dean says instead, slumping back uselessly onto the bed. He’s going to kill Sam later…

He better be okay.

Trench Coat narrows his eyes at Dean, and shakes his head. 

“You should know better than to lie to me,” 

Dean’s expression blanks. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Now he was definitely weirded out. There was something off about this guy. Did Dean get into a fight with him? Is that what happened? What the hell is he even doing here?

“If you are worried about Sam, you should just say so,” Trench Coat says, surprising and alarming Dean further. How the hell does he know Sam? “Sam is at the motel, sleeping. After waiting several hours for you to wake up, I told him to sleep.” 

And Sam just does everything he’s told, does he? How much does he know about him and Sam, anyway?

Trench Coat must have noticed the distrust in his eyes. 

“Dean?” He asks. The tone of his voice is strange. Dean can’t tell if he’s worried or annoyed. 

“I need to get outta here,” Dean says, mostly to himself. He isn’t going to stay here with Trench Coat longer than he has to. The only thing he need, is to get back to Sam. There isn’t time to just lay around here waiting to get better. Dean’s fine. Really.

“No. Sam insisted that you get ‘checked out’ by the doctors. I agree. Not only did you sustain a head injury, you have been out for three days,” Trench Coat says firmly. 

Fuck that. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dean spits back. It sounded more than a little childish, but he doesn’t really give a shit at this point. Trench Coat doesn’t have a say in how he gets treated. “And Sam’s not here, so he can’t either.” ‘Course making a drastic escape might be harder than he thought. It still feels like he got hit by a truck.

“Dean,” Trench Coat starts to stare him down, and damn, for a scrawny looking nerd, he sure can hold his own in a staring contest. “You will be able to leave once the doctors deem you well enough to do so.” 

Dean glares at Trench Coat. He obviously isn’t going to help any. Sam might, though, if he complains enough. 

“Yeah, whatever,” He isn’t attacking, isn’t calling the Feds, or the police, so odds are he doesn’t know who Dean and Sam are. Or: he does know, and he’s a hunter too. Either way, it’s best to keep his mouth closed, and get word from Sam. He’s gotta know what’s going on, right? If not, Dean could be in deep, deep shit. “Let me use your phone?” He asks, holding out his hand. 

Trench Coat sighs, and reaches into his pocket. At least he knew when not to fight Dean on this. He slaps the phone in Dean’s hand, but he didn’t back away. Jesus, didn’t this guy do anything but stare and lecture? It’s like he has no idea what personal space is.

Without saying thank you, Dean starts punching in the numbers for Sam’s cell. The phone doesn’t even ring on the other end. It just goes directly to an automated voice message, telling him that the phone number was out of service. That’s weird. Dean remembers him and Sam getting new numbers recently. Why would he change it so quickly, and when Dean was out? That’s a dick move of him.

He hangs up, and starts to dial Sam’s emergency number. Another fucking automated voice message. There was no way Sam would change both his numbers while he was out of it. Fingers starting to shake, he dials yet another number- this time, Bobby’s. 

Nothing. 

What the fuck was going on? Did everyone drop off of the face of the earth?

There was no way Bobby canceled all his numbers right? He had to answer one of ‘em. One of his FBI or State Marshall numbers. Any of them would do. If he’s desperate enough (and he’s getting there) he can call Ellen and see if she knows anything. 

“Dean?”

“Shut up,” Dean snaps, raising the phone to his ear again. Same deal. This is really starting to freak him out. 

“Dean,” Trench Coat says again. He sounds softer than he had before, almost sympathetic, which is really pissing him off. He has no idea what this is like. 

The phone is suddenly taken away from him, and Dean wants nothing more than to get up and take it back, and he almost does, but his body fails him. He’s stuck in this helpless position. Again.

Trench Coat dials a number and hands it to Dean. Before Dean can say anything, there is a voice at the other end of the line. 

“Cas? Cas, did something happen? Everything okay?” Sam. Thank god.

“Sam? Sam, it’s me,” Dean says, the relief is too overwhelming to register what Sam had called him. “Everything’s okay. You just gotta get me outta here, man, you know how much I hate hospitals.” And there is some guy here who won’t leave my god damn side. 

“Yeah, alright, calm down, man.” Sam says. Dean can hear that Sam is just as relieved as he is. Everything is okay. Jesus. That phone number thing really freaked him out. Someone better explain why all numbers are suddenly bunk. Maybe someone was getting close to finding Sam and Dean. It could have been an emergency. Yeah, that makes sense. Right? “I’ll be there in fifteen. Think you can manage?” Sam breaks his train of thought, and it makes him smile a little. 

“Shut up and get your ass over here, bitch,”

“Whatever, jerk,”

Dean hangs up and hands the phone back to Trench Coat reluctantly. There has to be some explanation for all the shit that’s been going on. And since he’s got some time before Sam gets here, he decides he’s going to get some answers now.

“How’d you know Sam’s number?” Dean asks suspiciously. 

Trench Coat tilts his head and frowns. 

“He gave me his number,” The words are drawn out slowly, and if Dean was paying attention, he’d notice that they were laced with fear. However, he’s more stuck on the idea that he and Sam almost never gave out their numbers. To anyone. Ever. And yet… Sam kinda did brush off the whole being reached by a strange number thing. That makes things even weirder. 

“Why would he do that?” Dean asks himself. 

This in turn makes Trench Coat frown further. It was obvious, even to Dean, that he doesn’t like what he is hearing. 

“In case of emergencies. You know this, Dean,” He says, emphasizing his words. 

But no, Dean really doesn’t know that. They already have plenty of people who they can call in case of emergencies. Why the hell would they need to give this guy their numbers? Why would he be sitting here with Dean calling Sam? Holy shit… what if Sam didn’t know until Webster’s over here called him? 

“You do know this, Dean… Don’t you?” 

“Look, buddy, I appreciate you giving me the phone and all that, but I have no idea why Sam would give you an emergency number. That makes no fucking sense,” He says honestly, though he’s kinda put off by the look on Trench Coat’s face. 

“Buddy.” Trench Coat says, his voice far off and distant. He has this look on his face that Dean can’t label, but he can tell that it’s nothing positive. Dean refuses to feel bad about this. Maybe Sam and him were friends, but Dean doesn’t do the whole friend thing. He doesn’t trust people as openly, or as quickly. No matter how much of a puppy the person looks.

“You don’t know me.” Trench Coat says, more of a statement than a question. 

“…No, I thought that’d be pretty obvious,” It’s not like he knows me, Dean thinks, trying to rationalize this guys response. Unless Sam and him have been talking about me. In which case, I’d have to kick Sam’s ass. 

“What do you remember?”

“Uh…” Dean should tell him to get the hell out of his room. He should tell him that it’s none of his business what’s going on in his life. Sending him away now might be a mistake. Just how much does this guy know about him and Sam? If he knows about the supernatural world, he might be a hunter. If he’s not a hunter, then Dean should keep his eye on him until Sam comes around. To do that, he’s gonna have to answer some questions, get a feel for what he knows, and what he doesn’t know. “Sam was trying to get me out of a contract. Why?”

Trench Coat sighs. There’s this long, uncomfortable pause, and Dean feels like he’s said something wrong, or that it wasn’t the answer Trench here was looking for. 

“That was five years ago, Dean,” He explains slowly. Trench Coat looks at Dean searchingly, and he can’t fucking take it. There’s no god damned way. 

“That’s not funny.” Dean says immediately. His heart is pounding against his chest, like it always does when his fate comes to mind. Even toying with the idea that he some how managed to escape his deal wasn’t in the forefront of his mind. This guy was out of his fucking mind if he thought that, even for a moment, Dean would believe him. 

Dean waited for the guy to double over, to slap his knee and tell him how he had just got him. It’s all supposed to be a big god damned joke, it’s got to be. Trench Coat didn’t seem to budge on the subject, though. He’s got a great poker face. At least, that’s what Dean has to hope for at this point. That it’s all just a lie. 

“That did not happen five years ago,” He reasserts. “Don’t you dare pull this shit on me.” 

Still, the man in the trench coat did not budge on the subject. 

“Dean, I know that this might be difficult for you to believe, but we have known each other for years. We are…” The man paused, and looked away. Even though his perception is sorta skewed due to his anger, Dean could tell that he was conflicted about something. “Friends.”

“Horseshit. I woulda remembered you.” It’s not like Dean has a lot of friends to remember, anyway. One who had a giant stick up his ass definitely would have been memorable. 

“Unless something prevented you from doing so. In this case: retrograde amnesia,” The longer this conversation went on, the more conflicted and emotional the man seemed to become. “Dean, the things that have happened in the past few years are complicated. Perhaps I should wait for Sam to get here. You would be more… comfortable with him explaining all the recent events.” 

The dark vibes that the man was giving off seemed to permeate in the air, and it made things even more uncomfortable than Dean wanted them to be. He just wanted the truth, upfront. But yeah, he was right. It’s better that he hears it from Sam than some stranger. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Maybe a few minutes. Dean is still waiting for that punch line, but not so much from the Trench Coat guy. Trench Coat has taken it upon himself to make things weirder by not moving away at all. He just sort of… stood there, like he was watching over Dean, making sure that he wasn’t going to run away. It was unsettling, and Dean had half a mind to tell him to fuck off when Sam came rushing in through the door. 

“Sam, can you tell this guy that-”

“Sam, I believe that Dean is suffering from amnesia, and doesn’t remember anything from 2008 on.”

The fucking asshole cut him off. Again, Dean planned on telling him to go screw himself when he noticed something. Sam was fuckin’ Rapunzel. 

“Dude, what’s up with the hair?”

Sam’s face went from confused to in shock. Behind his eyes though, Dean saw something that wasn’t there the day before. It’s exhaustion. It’s years and years of pain that he shouldn’t have had to suffer, but did. It’s wisdom from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s age. 

Under Sam’s scrutinizing gaze, Dean feels exposed, almost as much as Trench Coat made him feel. 

“You think it’s 2008?”

Dean’s heart sinks. Holy shit. Sam is good at playing games, but not that good. And he knows that his brother would never, ever joke about something like this. It would be too over the top. 

“Sammy, you tellin’ me it’s not 2008? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it’s not possible for years to have passed.” He hints at the deal, and it sucks bringing it up, but it’s the only proof he has at the moment. 

“It’s 2013,” Sam says. 

Now Dean starts to worry. He looks back from his brother to the stranger, waiting for something, anything to happen other than this silence. It’s suffocating him, being between two people who know more about what’s going on than he does. 

“No way. No, c’mon, we tried everything, there’s no way-”

“Cas, can I talk to you outside for a minute, please?”

Oh. So then Trench Coat was Cas.

Cas frowns deeply and cocks his head to the side. 

“Sam, I told Dean that you should tell him what he’s forgotten.”

“Just a minute. Please,” Dean scowls when Sam looks back at him. If he really does have amnesia (what the hell? It’s not like he’s in an episode of Dr. Sexy. Things like this don’t actually happen.), what is Sam waiting for? Why wouldn’t someone just explain what’s going on? To his frustration, Cas complies, and follows Sam outside the room. 

Dean’s head hits the pillow. He gets the feeling that the fun hasn’t even started yet.

-

This is not something that Castiel has ever anticipated. Especially after the more recent events, he thought that things were going to get easier. Now, standing outside of Dean’s hospital room, he feels more helpless than he has in a long time. However bad he was at comforting Dean beforehand has changed drastically now. Dean would not even let him close to his side. All those years of trust. Everything they’ve been through together. It’s all gone now.

Sam sends a doctor to go talk to Dean and figure out how much damage has been done, he returns to Castiel’s side. 

Sam does not have it easy, eother. Explaining to Dean about all the horrors they have seen a second time will be an awful experience. Castiel wishes that he still had his grace, so that he could spare Dean the pain.. 

“So, what exactly does Dean remember? Did he tell you?” Sam asks. 

Castiel sighs. 

“The last thing he recalls is the two of you hunting a demon to get out of his deal,” He gives Sam a meaningful look. “He believes that he is going to hell.”

The moment that follows is heavy and uncomfortable. Those were the days that Castiel wasn’t yet in the Winchester’s life. At least visibly. What’s surprising to Castiel, is that Sam doesn’t look as devastated as Castiel feels. Years of Dean’s memory gone, and he isn’t upset?

“Listen, Cas,” Sam shifts his weight from one long leg to the other, and crosses his arms. “Uh, what do you think about…” He clears his throat. It is apparent to Castiel that Sam is avoiding asking the question. He waits for Sam to finish patiently. Perhaps the situation is more stressful on the younger brother than he thought. “What if we don’t tell Dean everything that’s happened?” 

The Winchesters have had some pretty bad ideas before, but this one strikes Castiel as particularly stupid. How can he let Sam keep information from Dean?

“Sam, that’s not a good idea. You should know that by now. From personal experience, no less.” Whenever one Winchester kept things from the other, things went wrong. It is well within Dean’s right to know what’s happened in his own life. He must know, or how will they be able to tell him anything at all? Leaving chunks of a story out will only make it more suspicious, and Dean will notice the holes in his past. On a more selfish note, he wants Dean to remember so that Dean could trust him again. They need trust, for when they hunt down whatever is left in the world.

“Yeah, but, think about it! Dean doesn’t remember hell. It’s like he never went. Do you have any idea-” Sam lets out a harsh breath. “And not only that, but he’s been carrying all this crap for years. If I can somehow come up with an explanation as to why he’s not currently rotting in hell, can you imagine how much stress he’ll let go?” Castiel is now on the opposite end of the dreaded ‘puppy eyes’. “For once, Dean doesn’t have to think about everything, or be guilty about anything. Things have gotten better since we closed the gates… But with a clean slate-”

“His slate is far from clean. Even before hell, Sam-”

“Yeah, whatever. He could be happy. That’s what’s important. Right?”

It wasn’t the best argument. Still, Castiel thinks back to all the tragedies that have occurred. It’s not just hell that Dean has forgotten. There are deaths that he has blamed himself for, events that he couldn’t have helped, and so many nightmares. 

There were good times, too, Castiel thinks forlornly. And times that have yet to be played out. He looks back into Dean’s room and watches how the man he has hunted with for several months now is throwing a temper tantrum as the doctor pokes and prods at him. 

Would Dean believe him if Castiel was the one to tell him about all the horrors? Not likely. Not over his own brother. Either Castiel has to go along with Sam’s plan, or be the one to hurt Dean with the truth. Is it possible for a heart to hurt due to emotional pain? 

“You cannot hide the truth from him forever, Sam. One day soon, something will slip. Just moments before he called you, he tried to contact Bobby. How long do you think before it happens again? How long before he wonders about all of his deceased friends?” Castiel questions, slowly turning to look back at Sam. “What happens if he starts to remember on his own?”

“I know! I know, okay? I already thought about that. But just… god, just a few days. Please. That’s all I’m asking,” He pleads. “And even if we do end up telling Dean about everything… we can’t do it all at once. We can’t.” 

There, Castiel can see where Sam has a point.

“Let’s just… get him through this, first. Once I know everything else is okay with him, we’ll take him back to my…” He stops. Castiel supposes that Sam almost suggested that they bring Dean to his house to recover. So he hasn’t thought about everything. Sam purses his lips before speaking again. “Well, I’ll figure it out. Will you do it though? Will you keep everything to yourself?” 

Castiel sighs again. He doesn’t want to keep it to himself. It feels wrong to lie. The trust that is now gone along with Dean’s memories would be hurt if he were to remember. Dean might never trust him again. After all they’ve been through, Castiel wouldn’t have guessed that this would be his greatest challenge. 

“Yes. For now,” He says. “But we have to tell him soon, Sam. It isn’t right to conceal his past from him.”

Sam looks away, ashamed, but satisfied. 

Now they just have to come up with a convincing lie for everything that’s happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um. I've been working on this one a long while. And it's still not complete. I'm notorious for not finishing fics, but I'm really very serious about this one. It would help if I had some feedback, and even some people kicking my butt to finish. I love writing, but if I feel like my fic isn't worth it, it's often abandoned. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, it means a lot. <3 
> 
> I'll try to update once a week.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks that maybe he should have planned this out a little more.

So without any real explanation, Sam and Cas just leave him in the hospital. The doctors want to observe him, or something, so he gets to stick around for another night. He can’t believe that they expect him to cope in this new time all by himself. It kinda just makes him feel more out of place than usual. He doesn’t get why Sam didn’t just bust him out, like they usually do. Maybe more has changed than he initially though. After all, it’s been years. 

Years. Yeah, that word is echoing in his head. He was only supposed to have a month left, so that leaves the most obvious question: why isn’t he rotting in Hell right now? After all the digging and searching Sam did, he was convinced that there was nothing that could keep him out of the fiery depths. 

Dean gets off his bed and stumbles to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror and shit, he has grown older. Weird. There are lines by his eyes, and the lines on his forehead, while not prominent, are there too. He laughs humorlessly. The truth is, he never really planned on getting this old. His precious youth is gone. What is he, 30 something? Jesus. 

Then something that’s not his old age catches his eye. 

When Dean was about 16, 17, he was on a hunt with his Dad. It was one of his first, and though he was desperate not to mess up and impress dear old Dad, he did. There was a scar, nothing really noticeable unless you knew where to look, right below his ear. Except it doesn’t matter how hard you look because it’s not there anymore. He squints, and leans in close to the mirror, using his good arm to lean against the wall. It’s definitely not there. But there is a new scar peaking out from under his borrowed hospital shirt where his shoulder is. 

He pushes away from the wall, and carefully tugs his collar over the top of his shoulder. There was supposed to be another scar that he got there from a hunt a year or two (or, nine, he guesses) back, and that’s gone as well. More than a little perplexed, he pulls up his shirt from the bottom to get a good look at his chest. Old scars are gone, and new ones are in their place. What the hell? Scars can fade, sure, but they don’t just fucking disappear like that. 

Seriously though, what the hell? He drops his shirt and stares back at the incredulous expression in the mirror. Obviously Sam hasn’t told him anything. He left kinda in a rush, as if something else was way more important than his brain damaged brother. Shouldn’t he have mentioned that he might be a little weirded out by his own body? (On second thought, he’d rather not receive a speech too much like the puberty one he had to give Sam when he was a kid.) 

There’s a little bit of what looks like a burn just out of sight on the side of his shoulder. Okay then. He lifts his sleeve and sucks in a breath. Holy shit. Holy shit. Who, or what, did that? The burn- what he thought was just going to be a little thing is really a huge burn, taking up a whole chunk of his shoulder. That’s not what’s freaking him out, though. 

It’s in the shape of a fucking hand. 

He’s got to calm down. Whatever did that is probably dead. Probably died years ago, in the haze of hundreds of other creeps and shadows that he and his brother took out. It’s fine. 

No, fuck that. It’s not fine. Nothing he has ever heard of burns with their hands, not like that. He touches the soft, pink skin. Why couldn’t Sam just stay for two minutes? And why did he take that weird guy with him? Are they seriously friends with that guy? Cas. There has definitely got to be a story that comes with that trench coat. And Dean is not going to shut up about it until he finds out what. 

Reluctantly, he limps back to his shitty hospital bed and lies down. There are way too many thoughts racing back and forth in his head. Too many questions. He has the urge to just pick up the damn phone, wake his brother up, and demand the answers that he has the right to know. Except he doesn’t know Sam’s number. 

Dean has never not known Sam’s number, and that’s another thing on his list of ‘really uncomfortable shit’. It takes a long time for him to fall asleep, and surprise, surprise- he wakes up just a few hours later. 

“Shouldn’t they be givin’ me drugs to help me sleep?” He asks aloud. But like every other question he’s been asking, there’s no answer. 

The wait for Sam to show up is fucking torturous, so he puts the T.V. on. He smiles when one of his favorite shows (Dr. Sexy), is on. One good thing about being an amnesiac, he realizes thirty seconds into the episode, is that there are five whole seasons he doesn’t remember, and gets to discover them all over again. 

Shit has really changed since he last remembered. Those are definitely a new pair of cowboy boots. 

Just when shit is about to go down between Dr. Sexy and Paige, the sexy neurologist, Sam walks in. With Cas. 

Dean does nothing to hide his distaste and annoyance. Maybe Sam is the one who has a head injury, ‘cause there’s no way he wants someone he doesn’t know hangin’ around here. 

“Sam-” He starts, a warning in his voice. 

“He’s a friend. Your best friend, actually,” Sam’s brother explains. Dean looks this guy over. He doesn’t look much better than yesterday. Cas looks like he didn’t get any sleep, and his clothes are just as wrinkled as they were yesterday, albeit a lot cleaner. 

“Really,” He deadpans. “How’d we meet?”

And if Dean thought that shit was weird before, it’s definitely a lot weirder now. Cas looks helplessly over to Sam, like he’s not allowed to say anything to Dean without permission. 

Sam doens’t even look at Cas, just shrugs it off. “I wasn’t there,” And yeah, that doesn’t explain shit. If he and Cas are such good friends, then he shouldn’t have any problem explaining how they met. 

“Come on, I got your stuff.” Sam tosses Dean a duffel bag, and Dean paws through it. A worn plaid shirt he doesn’t recognize, a softened pair of jeans he miraculously still has, some socks… but where’s- “Dude, where’s my amulet?”

Again, there’s this awkward silence. Dean is quickly growing tired of these worried faces. “Sam,” His voice has that warning in it, but Sam doesn’t say anything this time. “Where’s my amulet?” Don’t tell me I was dumb enough to lose it, He thinks, almost panicked. No. He’s had that since he was a kid. It’s not lost. Maybe Sam forgot it, or it’s in the car. It can’t be gone. 

When there’s still no answer, Dean just gets up, and storms to the bathroom. This can’t go on for long. Eventually, someone is going to have to tell him something.

When the door is closed behind him, Dean takes a breath, and goes through the duffel bag one more time. You know, just in case. It’s kind of dumb, but he’s hoping that Sam and Cas are just messing around with him. No go. There’s just some crumbs in the corner and a bunch of lint. Great. He huffs. So the amulet is probably gone. That makes him feel stupidly emotional. How the fuck could it be gone? That’s one of the few possessions that he really cared about.

He’s had all this pent up emotion of hopelessness and frustration ever since he made the deal with that crossroads bitch. Now he’s years in the future with that same feeling at the bottom of his gut. Sammy is gonna be watching him, and treating him like he’s a kid ‘cause of this amnesia bullshit. Well, Dean’s not made of glass. He can handle whatever truths his brother his holding back.

After that moment of collecting his thoughts and composure, Dean gets dressed. 

The best way to get answers is to get one of them alone, he decides. That’s his plan of attack. Surprisingly enough, he thinks it’ll be easier to get information out of Cas. The way he looks at Sam whenever he asks a question- yeah, he wants to talk. But Dean gets the feeling that Sam said something to him. If that’s the case, he and Sam are gonna have a good talk about that. 

Once he’s done, he leaves the bathroom, a scowl still plastered across his face. Just ‘cause he figured out what he was going to do does not mean he feels much better about being lied to. He brushes past both Sam and Cas, muttering, “Let’s get outta here already,” and limps as fast as he can towards the exit. 

Like always, they skip the checking out part, not wanting to draw attention with fake I.D.s, or be bombarded with some more useless questions on their current condition. At least Sam hasn’t changed in that aspect. 

That first rush of fresh air is nice. The cool air in his lungs helps calm him down, keeps him grounded. Five years doesn’t look so different from here. Looks kinda the same, with the random bunch of people racing in and out, and being in a town he doesn’t recognize. No, this is something real familiar. 

Better yet, he can spot his baby in the parking lot. He grins and doesn’t even bother checking both ways before speed walking towards her. When he gets to his car, he rubs his hand over the hood. Now this is quite a fucking sight. His baby- his Impala has done the best thing for him by staying the same. Yeah, he can tell he’s had to rebuild her a time or two (Dean can recognize his own god like handiwork on his baby), but she just looks like she did when he saw her last. 

The moment is kinda ruined when Sammy and Cas catch up. Looks like the doctors caught them after all. He smirks at the thought. Karma is fucking awesome sometimes. 

Until Cas is the one pulling the Impala’s car keys out of his pocket. Nope. Dean doesn’t care if he has amnesia or that he has no idea what their relationship was like before just a couple days ago. That’s bullshit. No one gets to hold his keys. No one. (Besides Sam, but you know. Duh.) He walks up to him, and snatches the keys away, leaving Cas looking surprised. 

Then blank. His entire expression just melts off, and if Dean’s not wrong, he’s standing a little taller. There’s only this determined look in his eye. Dean halfway recognizes that expression, that stance. He’s seen it in a soldier before. In himself. He shakes it off. Soldier or whatever, he’s still an asshole. 

“These?” He jingles the keys in front of Cas’ face. “These stay with me. Got it?” 

Cas nods once, and Dean can’t help but roll his eyes. What, has the cat got his tongue today? Best friends. Right. 

Dean unlocks the door, but then is stopped by Sam. 

“No way are you driving with only one arm. At least, not today,” Sam is really begging to get punched in the face right now. 

“Dude, what the hell? I’ve driven with one arm before.” 

“Not the left.” Sam points out. 

They have this silent stand off before Dean practically throws the keys at Sam. Maybe the Impala isn’t quite the same after all. 

-

The doctors had explained that Dean’s memories might come back, but they might not. The human brain is a tricky thing. Smells, he was told, are the most powerful thing when it comes to memory. The littlest thing could trigger one, or even more. Behind the wheel of the Impala, Sam feels like he’s driving on a minefield. His hands grip the steering wheel hard. Anything in here can set Dean off. Even just one memory can completely fuck over his entire idea to keep Dean’s past locked safely away. Small things that might be missing on the dash, or the few coins in the cup holder. He feels stupid for having not thought about the amulet. Now that the thing’s back in his mind, well… He’s wondering what small moments escape his own memory. 

For the past couple of years it had just been one big event after big event. There wasn’t any room in his mind to remember pulling the car over and watch the stars. No. The details of their lives had escaped him, too. There’s just too much to take it in all in one go. He’s right to not tell Dean, at least not at the hospital. 

There’s got to be a strategy, a right way to do this. It’d be easier if there were actual documents, or suggestions to help with this. On amnesia, there’s just suggestions on helping someone remember. 

Ever since Castiel started hunting with Dean, things have been going pretty well for everyone. Sam was able to leave the life he never wanted to be a part of, Dean and Cas got to do their own thing, and the world that used to be full of demons is now demon free. So… If he doesn’t explain everything the right way, he’s going to mess it all up. If Sam had the choice, he wouldn’t tell Dean at all. But that’s just not ethical. Not possible, either. 

He breathes in slowly, and tries to focus on the road. Already, he’s been messing things up. He hasn’t planned as well as he should have, and Castiel- well, he’s being Castiel. The guy is usually super truthful and blunt. This has to be especially hard for him. Sam just feels so selfish asking him to keep everything a secret. He hasn’t even really apologized. 

Castiel has just been staring out the window, his head leaning against the glass. It’s very different from how he used to sit in the car, with his back straight, his hands on his knees, looking forward. Now his breath fogs up the mirror, and his left arm is across his lap, as if to protect himself. It’s very… human. He hasn’t said a word since yesterday, outside of Dean’s hospital room. 

It’s got to be just as hard for Castiel as it is for Sam. Probably more so. Dean just lost a few years, so his relationship with Sam didn’t completely disappear. So Sam really has to find a quick, efficient way to tell Dean. It’s important. He has to. Even if the past is a total shit hole. 

…But would it really be so bad? Sam just can’t help but think about everything. About Dean being in hell for forty years. As if that wasn’t enough, he was stuck in Purgatory for a year. Plus all the deaths. They just couldn’t catch a break, could they? Just constantly running into deaths of a loved one. Or even just someone they were trying to protect. Years of that too. There’s blood caked on everyone’s hands, but the Winchester’s seem to be drowning in it. 

The one thing that he absolutely dreads to tell his brother the most is about Bobby. To them, Bobby was sort of the last bit of family they had left. Dean was in such bad shape right before he went to hell, thinking that at least it was the end, at least he didn’t have to face it anymore. How is he going to take hearing any of it? Even the deaths that he wasn’t there for… Sam has a feeling that Dean is going to feel them all the same. 

Sam feels so fucking overwhelmed just thinking about what his next move should be. Should he ask for help? No, this is on him. Dean is his brother, so he’s going to take care of him. That’s the point of this whole thing anyway. 

But is it? Is it really altruism that drives this? He wonders. Is this for his brother… or for him?

After all, Dean didn’t just forger about hell, the deaths, and all the crap that came with it. He forgot the shit that Sam did, too. Suddenly, Sam’s slate is clean. He didn’t start the apocalypse. He didn’t choose Ruby over Dean. He didn’t get hooked on demon blood. He didn’t rot in hell after saying ‘yes’ to fucking Satan. He was never soulless. And he never left his brother to rot in Purgatory. 

He’s still Sam- but without all the baggage, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s what’s truly driving him to keep everything hush-hush. Guilt is in his every movement, but it’s concealed to Dean. After all the lying he’s done throughout the years… this younger Dean can’t know how to read him as well. That might be beneficial on Sam’s side, even if part of him wants to get caught. 

Explaining everything would release all this guilt, all this tension. But then Sam looks to his right and he realizes that no, he’s doing the right thing. This is for Dean. 

Telling Dean everything when he could be happy is the selfish thing to do, not keep everything from him. Yeah, he’s going to need to do some explaining, and eventually he has to tell him about Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. But why does he have to know about Hell? About Purgatory? He doesn’t need to know. Castiel has always been there for Dean, and once Dean sees that now, then those two will work whatever they have out. It’s not going to be so hard, he was just panicking. Everything is going to be okay. Maybe better than. He just hopes that his brother doesn’t recover from his amnesia. At least for a little while. 

-

The car ride lasts for hours. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sam would just put a different radio station on. (Seriously? He doesn’t get to drive or pick the music? This is serious, serious bullshit.) No one was talking either. It kind of adds on to the feeling that people aren’t saying shit to him on purpose, and that’s really irritating. 

Stick to the plan, he thinks. Just gotta talk to one of ‘em. Which ever comes first. . He can feel Cas’ eyes on the back of his neck. Why doesn’t the bastard just say something? Talk about some funny stories, or wild adventures they got into together. If Dean is going to be best friends with anyone, they better have some stories about him. But nope. In place of all those fun adventures they might have had, Cas prefers crazy creepy staring. How he can do that for hours on end, Dean doesn’t know. He turns around at some point and snaps, “Will you quit it?” 

The only answer he gets is an alien like head tilt. “Quit what?” 

Dean just has to roll his eyes at that response. He has to. Cas can’t not know that it’s rude to stare at someone. Dean must have complained about it at some point in this weird ass relationship, right? Guess that’s another question he’s going to have to ask later. If he’s lucky, he’ll actually get an answer. Or an acknowledgment. 

He slumps back down in his seat and very nearly prays for the ride to end sooner. That, or to be hit by a truck. The only thing that’s entertaining him now is the watching the trees rush past his window into a green blur. So yeah, not that interesting. Even though Cas didn’t really say anything, he’d rather have dumb conversations than continue this uncomfortable silence. It’s really pissing him off that Sam is avoiding conversation and pretending that everything is alright.

It’s been almost a day since he’s woken up, and he knows that Sam is keeping shit from him, but what he can’t figure out is why. Why would his brother want to keep anything from him, especially since he’s made it this far? Fuck, wouldn’t he want to cheer about the fact that he isn’t in hell? Tell the whole god damned story in one breath? 

Maybe not. He sighs, and lets his head hit the window. Whatever. It’s not the first time Sam’s lied about something anyway. 

Dean hopes it’s because they have Cas hanging around. If Cas is making things awkward, then okay, he can’t blame Sam for putting everything off until later. And so the hours pass, and the awkward vibes continue to flow.

It’s late by the time Sam pulls up in front of… a hole. What the fuck. 

“Sam. This is the shittiest motel you’ve ever picked,” He jokes, though really, this has to be the worst place to camp out. Unless his brother is just tired and wants to take a break. Wuss. He never could drive as long as Dean could. Thinking about that, he can’t help but smirk. 

“Yeah? Let’s see what you say when you see the inside,” Sam says cryptically. He smiles, and gets out of the car. At first, Dean thinks it’s just an elaborate prank, but when Sam strides over to the entrance, and opens it up, he realizes that he’s not kidding. Cas is right behind Sam, so he guesses that means that he has no choice but to follow. 

Dean gets out of the car, and cautiously walks towards the entrance. 

At first, it’s dark, and sort of dank. Dean is not impressed by the crappy motel, but then Sam leads him through the tunnel, and, “Whoa,” He breathes. Then, he takes a good long gander. It’s like a bunker. How the hell did Sam score this? It gets better as he passes through the corridors. It looks like an actual fucking home. All the soft lights against spines of old books and the smell of dust. And there’s computers too. Dean can tell that stuff has just recently been added. “What is this place?” He asks, looking over to Sam. 

Sam smiles wider, and Dean knows that he’s about to learn something. “This is where the Men of Letters- a secret society- kept all their information on the supernatural. Kind of like the Library of Alexandria, but cooler.”

Dean whistles. “No shit?” There are shelves of books, and on the table, Dean can see that Sam has a nice little set up with his high tech computer, a lit lamp, and a cup that probably has some coffee in it still. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Uh, I didn’t. Turns out…” He pauses. “Turns out we’re legacies of the Men of Letters. Our grandfather was supposed to be one, but then he ended up time traveling to the future. And then… we sort of met the Men of Letters and they gave us the key.”

Stopping in his tracks, he turns to look at Sam. “Our grandfather traveled to the future?” Holy shit. How come Sam gets to remember all the fun stuff? “Well, where is he?” It’d be cool to meet the guy, Dean supposes. Seeing a family member is always kind of a miracle. 

Sam opens his mouth, then sighs. A great, long sigh. Although Dean can already see where the conversation was going to go, he wasn’t prepared to hear: “He died.” 

Dean looks away and shakes his head. Of course he’s dead. Why the hell would someone in the Winchester family ever live? It would ruin the pattern. “So which Grandpa was it?” Honestly, he can probably figure it out on his own, but he’s too damned tired to think who would most likely bite the dust. 

“Uh, Dad’s Dad, actually.”

That’s another ‘oh shit’ moment. Ever since they were kids, Dad complained about how he hated his old man, how he left when he was only a kid. Now he’s never gonna know that his shit father actually just teleported himself into the future. Fucking typical. All he can say to that is, “That sucks.” If he was more poetic, or was more open about shit, he’d say something about how he wished it never happened, how if maybe their Dad had a father, shit woulda been different. 

There’s no real use about moaning about the woulda-coulda-shouldas, though. It just gives everyone a headache, ‘specially in this job. 

At some point since they’ve arrived, Cas has wandered away, to whatever secret crevice this place has. It might not be according to his plan, but Dean’s not exactly a patient person. Not when he has questions, anyway. 

“Speaking of the family curse,” He starts, and already, he can see that Sam does not want to talk about this. His brother looks like he just wants to walk away. Sam’s wearing a pretty good mask, though. He looks like he wants to appear calm and collected. “How come I’m not in hell? I only had a few weeks left.” That’s all he wants to know. He wants to know that his brother didn’t do something monumentally stupid, like sell his own soul. Or was he working with Ruby? Did she find a way to get him out of the deal after all?

What happened to that blond bitch anyway?

“An angel.” Dean blinks. Is that supposed to be an answer, or a punchline? “No, seriously, an angel.” Sam insists. This time, Dean can’t help but laugh and shake his head. He thought that he and Sam had this discussion before. 

“Right, an angel prevented me from going to hell. That’s real creative, Sammy.” Sam looks serious, and that really bothers him. Why the fuck wouldn’t he remember an angel? 

“I’m serious. You ah- you might have noticed that you’ve got this scar on your shoulder…” He trails off, as if waiting for Dean to check it out, but Dean knows exactly what he’s talking about. There’s something weird about that scar, and he doesn’t want Sam to see it. Even if he already has. “That’s how, you know? The angel branded you, and stopped the deal. It was… kind of amazing.”

No matter what Sam says… it’s got to be total bullshit. Angels don’t exist. Oh, and a scar doesn’t prove shit. “You really expect me to believe that?” 

Sam looks almost surprised. “If not, you can always just talk to Castiel.” Shit, that’s his full name? Poor bastard. “He used to be an angel.”

“Pffft. Right. I’m guessing there’s no real solid proof of that.” Nothing but his scar. Castiel’s hand won’t just…fit over it, will it? That’s really creepy to think about. Invasive, even. 

Sam shrugs, like it’s not a big fucking deal. “Just talk to him. He knows you better than you think,” Yup, that’s really creepy. “Anyway, let me show you your room. You decorated it, so you should like it.” 

Out of everything he’s just heard, having his own room might just be the most unbelievable. He follows after Sam, unable to keep his eyes from the decorated walls. This place just looks so secure. Kind of a great place to crash. 

It’s even better when Sam opens the door to his room. His. And the weird part is, he can tell that it’s his room. There’s a whole wall of weapons, but on the desk, there’s a picture of everyone. Bobby, his Mom, his Dad. It makes him smile. Oh, and the bed? He sits his ass down on that right away. 

“This is memory foam,” He says. It’s probably the most comfortable bed he’s ever sat on- and he won’t have to share it (though it’s big enough if he ever wants to bring some company). “Dude…” Sam smiles, like he’s proud of himself. Asshat- Dean’s the one who put this together, right? So he gets the credit. 

“Alright… well. I’m gonna go check on Cas. See what he’s up to.” Sam taps the doorway, then leaves before Dean gets a chance to say anything. 

He sighs, and runs a hand over the covers. It’s weird. Dean keeps finding himself left alone, with little to no explanation on anything. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, and he dials Bobby’s number. It’s one of his under cover numbers, something only select few people know. So he wants to punch a wall when he discovers that has been disconnected, too. 

It’s hard to keep the dark thoughts away, the idea that something might have happened to Bobby. Dean can’t accept that, though. There’s an explanation, he just needs to find it. He’ll focus on that tomorrow. And since he’s here, in the mother of all supernatural information, he might as well read up on angels, too. If they’re real, he should find something, and a reason why Castiel would want to keep him out of hell. If not… well, that means that Sam is probably lying about other stuff as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm floored by the attention this fic has received! Thank you for the kudos/comments/subscriptions/bookmarks! I can't believe that you like this! Hopefully I haven't disappointed you with this chapter. D: I didn't get everything I wanted out, but at least there will be some fun dramatic moments next time!
> 
> Oh, and I have a beta for next week- so the mistakes you see are STILL MINE. Please let me know if you spot one!
> 
> Also, if you'd like to follow me, I'm at nerdkingdean on tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave feedback- it helps me improve! <333


	3. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not as hard as everyone thinks to put the pieces together.

Castiel sits on his bed, and looks at the blank wall in front of him. The past day has felt like a bad joke that he doesn’t understand. Dean does not remember him. Sam does not want him to tell Dean anything, supposedly for Dean’s benefit. 

It’s difficult living in the bunker, just a few feet away from Dean, knowing that his closest friend is ignorant to such important events. He believes what Sam is doing is cruel and unnecessary. Eventually, Dean will discover that his brother (and Castiel) have been keeping secrets. 

What then? Dean does not trust him now. If he finds out on his own, Castiel assumes that he will never be able to have a friendship with Dean again. Castiel will have to find a new place to live, and, if worst comes to worst, find a new occupation. After centuries of living, Castiel only knows how to do so many things. All the people he used to call brothers are gone forever. The Winchesters… this life… it’s all he has. 

He sighs and looks around his room. It’s not unlike Sam and Dean’s in shape and size, but it’s completely his own. The bed is small, practical. There’s a desk, and there are papers and books stacked orderly upon it. His closet is filled with comfortable black shirts, a few button ups, and worn plaids they found at a Salvation Army. At the bottom, there’s a plastic bin filled with a few jeans, and a nice pair of slacks. His shoes are in order. There’s no pictures. It’s not like angels are photogenic, though Castiel wishes that they were. Now he has nothing to remember his brothers and sisters by.

The only thing remaining from his days as an angel is his angel blade, and his old trench coat. 

It’s times like these, where he’s sitting by himself on his bed that he misses his old life. Home, in Heaven. He misses his favorite part of heaven, bathed in sunlight with a kite in the sky. He misses hearing the song of his brothers, distant but comforting. He misses having nearly unlimited power, and unlimited time to use and discover it. And he misses his healing touch. If Dean’s injury had only happened two months before, then Castiel could have healed him. 

He wonders what Sam would’ve had to say about that. Would he be angry? Would he make the same argument, saying that Dean would be better off not knowing what has happened? Castiel honestly doesn’t know. 

And… he’s not sure that Sam is wrong. It feels wrong, that’s true enough, but the younger Winchester has a point. Dean doesn’t have the memories of endless torture and torturing in Hell. 

But Castiel is human now. His emotions seem to be amplified, as does the pain. And sins… It’s as if it’s natural to commit the sins, to become them. Castiel wants. He wants to help Dean remember, wants Dean to be by his side on another hunt again. It seems so easy, to just walk over to that other room and talk to Dean, tell him everything. 

Dean would not believe him now. He didn’t trust Castiel for almost a year when they first met. Then, he had proof as to what he was, what he was doing. His word just isn’t enough anymore. Especially if Sam is telling him something different.

Dean’s amnesia has caused much conflict in the way he thinks about things. He closes his eyes, and he prays, he prays for answers from beyond that closed gate. A whispered answer from the angels. Maybe even God. 

“What do I do?” He mutters.

But as always, there’s silence. Do the angels even hear prayers anymore? So what if they did. There’s probably nothing they could do, and if there was, they wouldn’t do it. He remembers the screams of the angels as the heavenly gates closed on them. It was chaos fueled by rage. Castiel is the last being that they would think to help. If only the gates didn’t have to close on them as well as the demons. Unfortunately, there has to be a balance. 

Not that Castiel would have gone back to them if that had been the case. No, Castiel does not regret the decision to fall. Even with all the pain, humanity is worth it. He thinks of how he and Dean were before and smiles to himself. Definitely worth it.

This too shall pass, he realizes. One day Sam will know that it is not good to hide Dean from his past. Or Dean will remember on his own. Castiel entertains the idea he will be the one to tell Dean everything. No matter how, Dean will know, and things will steadily go back to normal. Perhaps… perhaps if/when Dean remembers, they can finally talk about that last hunt and what happened. 

He gets up from his bed, and walks quietly, intending on getting a midnight snack. At this hour, he would have thought that Dean and Sam would be asleep, but he catches a light coming from the main room. It’s Dean. He’s reading. 

It’s not very often that he’s seen Dean study like this. From the corner, Castiel watches for a few minutes. Dean slowly turns the pages, absorbs the information. If Castiel was an angel, he would be able to see so much more than that. He misses that too. That doesn’t make the act any less enjoyable. 

Finally, he sees Dean’s back tense. Castiel knows that he’s going to turn around, and that he’s not going to be happy what he sees. 

What he didn’t predict was how unhappy Dean was going to look. He slams whatever book he was reading shut, and turns around so that he’s sitting more comfortable. Castiel was never good at reading certain social cues, but he knows that Dean is angry with him. It’s best to stay quiet until he knows what he’s angry about. 

“So Sam tells me you were an angel,” Dean begins. It’s not what he was expecting to hear. After all, Sam was the one who implored Castiel to keep everything a secret. 

“I was.” He admits. Any truth that he can provide, he will. 

“See, I used to think that angels were a bunch of legends. Stories to help kids sleep at night,” He taps the book with his good hand. “But things are a little different now, I guess. This is supposed to be a fuckin’ supernatural library, and I found some books on angels. Lemme tell you somethin’- I don’t like what I’m reading here, Castiel.” 

Castiel tightens his jaw. Of course Dean wouldn’t like what he’s been reading. People, when knowledgeable about angels and what they really are, aren’t usually satisfied with what they find. 

“Says here that you guys were warriors of god. That you would destroy, and destroy some more if you got the command,” Dean continues. “It also says that you took vessels- like a fucking demon. But that’s only when you decide to drag your feathery asses down to earth,” Castiel decides that he doesn’t like what Dean has been reading either. 

“I don’t appreciate you comparing me to a demon, Dean.” He says shortly. It takes him back to the days where he was disrespected, looked down on. For a short second, he misses the vibration of power through his being. “Since you’ve awoken, I’ve done nothing but help you, give you space.”

“Yeah? And how’d we get to that point? How’d we get to be BFFs? You haven’t told me jack shit. How ‘m I supposed to know you’re not still some angel? Or that you’re something completely different?” Dean does not bother to keep quiet any longer. It’s likely that Sam has woken up. Hearing his brother talk like this might help him see to reason. This can’t go on much longer. “How ‘m I supposed to know that you’re not manipulating Sam into thinking somethin’ else?”

Castiel narrows his eyes and takes a step forward. This isn’t the Dean that he met, fresh out of hell, but he still has that suspicion, that mistrust. It’s difficult for Castiel to not only know but to see that Dean’s life has always been so difficult. That’s his problem. No faith. Except now, he has every reason not to have faith in the people around him, and those above.

“Do not accuse me of being a demon ever again,” He says lowly. Almost defensively. After all, he has haboured hundreds of Leviathan within him. Sometimes he can still feel the black ooze trudge through his vessel. (Body. It’s his now. No hints of Jimmy Novak.) He killed thousands with a righteous attitude. Being called a demon takes him back to the times he’d rather never took place. “I am your friend, Dean. And I have saved you time and time again. As you have saved me.”

Dean doesn’t believe him. 

“Then tell me what the hell brought you down here,” Dean has lowered his voice too. He’s holding himself back, Castiel can see. Dean wants to hurt him, he can see it in the way his fists shake, and how he’s leaning towards him. “Tell me why a myth would come down and stop me from taking a trip to Dante’s Inferno.” 

“Stop you?” The questions slips out before he thinks to ask it. What does Dean mean that he stopped him? That makes no sense. That’s not what happened. 

Oh.

Oh, that’s what Sam told Dean. He should have run along with the lie, he should have improvised. It’s too late. Dean has heard the confusion, knows that he’s missing yet another piece to his broken memory. He’s been fed wrong information from his brother. Castiel has to be very careful. Dean will do something rash if he doesn’t do something. But what can he do at this point? As Dean has pointed out, Castiel is by far one of the worst liars. Particularly when Dean is looking him in the eye. 

“Yeah. From goin’ to hell. S’what Sam said,” Dean narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. Is he daring Castiel to call his brother a liar? If only he knew. “Said to ask you why. So why? Explain aaaall about why you did it. C’mon. I’m dying to know. Unless you’re calling my brother a liar.” 

“It was an order,” It’s safer to stay as close to the truth as possible. (It might trigger a memory. Anything. Is it bad to hope for that?) “From my superior. Things went awry quickly, and I later had to join your forces,” So far, it’s easy to say all this. His words feel loud, though. Like everyone on earth can hear them, with Sam getting th full wave of betrayal on the highest of frequencies. “There was a war between Heaven and Earth.”

The disbelief is still clear on Dean’s face, but it’s different this time.

“A war? You can’t actually expect me to believe that. I mean, why the hell would Heaven go to war against us?” He asks. It seems Dean has forgotten all about Castiel’s slip. Good. He’s not sure he can explain everything without some assistance. “And what the hell use would I be for it? Why would you guys give a shit?”

This is not revealing a more torturous part of Dean’s past, so Sam must understand why he’s revealing this. “You were a weapon. Angels do need vessels. But they need… permission. Very few people are vessels. It’s in the blood, tracing back to the beginning of time.”

Dean scoffs. “So what, I’m a super special vessel, or whatever?” 

“Yes.” Dean looks at him with wide eyes. Some of that trust must be leaking through his subconscious, because he seems to believe what he’s saying. That takes a large weight off his shoulders. “For the archangel Michael. You were to confront his counter part, Lucifer-” Another scoff. “And stop the world from descending into chaos.”

It’s Sam’s responsibility to mention the rest. Castiel is not going to shield him from this. He chose to hide. As he thinks about it, he sees how it can be appealing to keep information from Dean on a more selfish level. He tries not to be bitter about it. Sam is not the first person to hide things from Dean, so Castiel has little room to judge. 

“That’s… you expect me to believe that? Just on your word?” Dean asks. He takes a step backward and rubs at his neck. 

“I realize this is a lot to take in, but-”

“No you don’t. You have no idea,” He argues. “You’ve never had your memories fuckin’ taken away, then have someone else explain them to you. And let me tell you somethin’. Hearing that you missed out on some big ass destiny makes it even fuckin’ worse. It’s such bullshit,” Dean shakes his head. “You can’t make shit like that up, can you? Michael, huh? I’m just some meat suit to an angel?” Dean shakes his head again and smiles.

Castiel is quiet. He wishes that he can see Dean’s soul, see the sparks of emotion again. It’s hard to read him right now. (It’s not the Dean he knows. It’s not the Dean he met.) 

“I’m not gonna believe shit, though. I wanna hear it from Sam,” The smile fades into something of a grimace. “Guess I’m gonna have to wait a long ass time, though.” Without another word, Dean slinks away into the kitchen. Castiel shouldn’t be so surprised that he’s pulling out a beer and taking a swig almost immediately. 

He’s gone, gone again. Castiel can’t get a hold of him, not the way he wants. But he feels that maybe if Dean talks to Sam, it will prompt something. Sam might finally tell Dean everything he deserves to know. If that happens, then Dean will know to trust him. 

It… it might never be like it was before. He still can’t define what their relationship was, but that’s gone away too. He has a shot of starting a new friendship. It’s a melancholic feeling, but it’s better than defeat. 

-

Sam wakes up to the sound of his phone going off. He groans and rubs a hand over his face. Usually, he wakes up early no problem, but the last couple of days? Well. He thinks he has a good enough reason to sleep in. 

“H’llo?” He answers, and blinks blearily. 

“Sam.” That voice makes him shoot straight up. 

“Maya,” His expression melts into worry, and he immediately feels the need to explain himself. “Uhm. I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I didn’t want-”

“You didn’t want Dean to hear. Yeah, I know,” He hears a sigh. “I can sorta understand why you wouldn’t tell Dean about all that other stuff, but I don’t get why you’re trying to keep us a secret. You can’t pretend to live in that bunker forever. Macy misses you.”

Macy is his dog. Maya, his girlfriend. Once upon a time, she used to hunt. When the gates of Hell were closing, she was there. It’s not exactly a great meeting, or a story to tell to the kids (should they decide to have any), but it suits them. He’s been given the freedom to tell her everything. There’s no tiptoeing, or mysterious pasts. It’s just them, trying to move on. Their understanding of one another has been great, but lately… it’s been a pain in his ass. 

“I miss you guys, too,” Of course he does. Being here gives him that claustrophobic feeling, like he’s stuck in that life again. “But, uh, Dean’s still recovering. And I’m not keeping you a secret. I’m just waiting for the right time to tell him. He’s vulnerable right now.” It sounds like a really shitty excuse when he’s explaining it to her. 

“Vulnerable. Right. He thought he was going to Hell, right? When he woke up?” 

“…Yeah, but-” 

“Well he’s vulnerable ‘cause you haven’t explained shit since. It’s all too good to be true. I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but things aren’t going to get easier if you keep this up,” He sighs again. She just doesn’t understand. And he’s glad that she doesn’t. Maya has never been to Hell, has never had those memories hanging over her. If she did, she’d want to protect her family, too. “At least tell him about quitting hunting. Better he finds out before he wants to take on another case. Ease him into the fact that he’s had a new partner for a while.”

“It’s not that easy. He doesn’t know Cas like he used to.” It’s that friendship that kept Dean going after he left, and that was after some long discussions about their family. Sam argued that maybe he wasn’t the person Dean was closest to anymore, and that that’s okay. Now Sam is the only one that Dean has- and he doesn’t even know it yet. 

“And he won’t until you talk to him. You’re not helping yourself here.” He can hear her irritation. 

“I’ll talk to him today. But I’m taking things slow. This has to be thought out,” It makes sense in his head. Maybe he’s just not cognoscente enough yet to explain it properly. “Really. I’ll talk to him. Promise. I’ll be home soon.” 

“The longer you wait, the messier it’ll be,” She warns. “Just be careful, okay? He is vulnerable, but maybe not as much as you think.”

And that’s where the conversation starts to annoy him. Sam loves her, but she doesn’t know Dean like he does. No one does. 

“I know what I’m doing, My,” He says. The only two people in the world that he can talk to about this are Cas and Maya, and they both doubt him. It’s not exactly encouraging. It’s got to be because they don’t know what it’s like. “Look, just… I’ll tell him. I will. But it’s got to be in bits and pieces. I didn’t tell you everything all in one go, did I?”

She sighs, like she’s unsure what to do with him. 

“That’s different. He’s your brother. And these are his damned memories. Your story is yours, and you got a right to tell it at your own pace. But now you’re holding onto his, and that’s not cool. He’s handled his life before, he can do it again.” 

The conversation doesn’t seem to divert from Dean, and it continually makes Sam feel worse. 

This is the right thing to do, He says this over and over again, like a mantra. It’s the right thing. Dean just needs some time to adjust to everything. It’s so different now. 

He tells Maya that he loves her, and that he’ll see her soon. Then, he hangs up and lets the phone roll out of his hand and onto the bed. His head falls back onto the pillow. What’s he going to do? Sam thinks on it for another half an hour before rolling out of bed. It’s late for him, almost eight thirty am, so he’s going to skip running. Castiel probably went without him anyway. 

Sam pulls on a pair on a pair of pants, then heads out to the kitchen. Dean is already up, which makes him pause. Either Dean didn’t sleep at all, or he went to bed way early. He doesn’t like the thought of his brother doing either. It usually means something is wrong. 

“Hey,” He greets. The best thing is to act like nothing is wrong with him. Dean has enough to worry about right now, anyway. No need to cause alarm. He gets himself a bowl of cereal (Cheerios), some milk, and the bowl and spoon, then sits down across from Dean. 

At first it’s kinda quiet, which makes him anxious, but then Dean says, “I didn’t know I could make french toast,” 

Sam looks at his plate, and yeah, there it is. Looks good, too. Future Dean (he supposes he should call Dean Who Remembers that. The tenses are all mixed up now.) had made cooking a sort of hobby. French toast was supposedly dead easy to make, and from the looks of it, it’s delicious. But Dean wasn’t eating it. 

“Guess there’s a whole bunch of shit about me that I don’t know. Got new hidden talents, huh?” Dean looks up, and he’s got this suspicious glint in his eyes. Uh-oh. Has he been more obvious than previously thought? Jesus. That’ll make things twice as difficult to explain if Dean thought he was lying all along. Which he’s not. Just withholding the truth. Temporarily. 

“Uh, yeah. When we moved in here about a year ago, you decided to pick it up,” He almost says again. Dean did some cooking when he was living with Lisa. Grilling, mostly. It seems like a harmless truth, but then he’d have to explain why Dean was living with Lisa and that doesn’t seem like such a good place to start. “You got really good at it, too.” He spoons some cereal into his mouth. 

“I guess I did,” Dean forks off a little piece and stares at it for a while. It’s kinda funny how he’s unsure of his own cooking skills. Sorta sad, too. But Dean seems to learn that yeah, he’s good at cooking judging by the face he’s making. “Damn. Wonder what else I’m hiding. Whaddya think, Sammy? Do I got any other little gems?” 

His words are playful, but he looks serious. 

Sam shrugs. 

“I mean… you have gotten insanely good at hunting. Better than me, now. Better than anybody. And you’re a great tactician. That’s always been there, though, you know?” 

Dean laughs quietly and nods. “How come you’re still huntin’? I thought you were gonna get out of the life once the contract was up. You know.. .live a normal, apple pie life. That was the dream, dude. So what the Hell?” 

The question seems to come out of nowhere. Dean has always been on and off about the hunting life, and whether or not he wants Sam to do it. Each time, he’s used emotional manipulation and guilt trips to persuade Sam one way or the other. So this? Yeah. It’s new. 

“It’s uh. Well. Things got mixed up. The hunting world was just crazy for a while. I never found the down time.” He sighs. And Dean never let him find it, either. 

“So what? No… finishing school?” Dean asks incredulously. It kinda stings to hear all his old dreams throw back at him. This time though, Dean doesn’t subconsciously use it as a weapon. “No job? No girl?” 

This is it. This is the perfect opportunity to tell Dean about Maya. About his house in the suburbs with a dog and a white picket fence. It’s a golden moment, and he should have no trouble telling Dean everything. He shouldn’t let it just slip away. 

“Nope,” He shakes his head. “That life is just far away. Almost impossible along side hunting. You know that.” 

Dean frowns and looks down at whats left of his french toast. “Yeah,” He stabs at the bread and breaks it apart into little pieces. “I know that.” 

The tense awkward feeling seems to return, and Sam knows that it’s his fault. He knows that he should have told Dean about his life. Of course he should have, but the desire to keep Dean safe, to keep him unaware, protect him from hurting is stronger. 

Just a little while longer. He’ll tell Dean once he gets to know Cas a little better. Then, he’ll be comfortable living here on his own with the fallen angel, and he won’t have to worry about letting Sam go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a fanart for chapter 1???? It's by broccolibystander on tumblr. It's just- yeah. It's the first fanart I've ever gotten and I absolutely love it. I'm still so amazed and shocked at the attention this fic is getting. I'm hoping that this chapter is as good as the others, and that I don't disappoint you guys. You've all been so nice. 
> 
> I struggled through with this week, and things changed when I started to write them. You know how characters have a mind of their own? Yeah. I didn't originally intend for Dean to find out about anything for a while, but Castiel is the World's Worst Secret Keeper, so. 
> 
> Anyway. If you thought things were dramatic this week, it's only going to get worse (or better. I dunno). 
> 
> As always, you can follow me on tumblr. I'm nerdkingdean. I sometimes rant about how this fic is kicking my butt. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, tell me how I'm doing! 
> 
> Much love. 
> 
> <333


	4. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They should have seen this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to my beta-reader Losechester. She's amazing. 
> 
> That's all. 
> 
> <3

Dean is starting to get cabin fever. It’s been a week in the bunker, and while the place is as huge as it is awesome, it’s just… well. He’s used to being on the road after a couple days in one place. It’s not easy getting used to this apparently domestic life. 

He’s tempted to leave, to get in his damn car and drive until she’s empty. That won’t solve anything, though. If he actually wants to learn anything about what happened in his past, he’s going to need to stick around. Not that being there has done much good so far.

Oh, sure, he keeps asking Sam, little questions and nudges for information. Anything at all. But Sam always holds back, and Dean has to wonder and worry about what he’s hiding, what he doesn’t want Dean to know. It must be bad, for Sam to work so hard to keep it from him, but he honestly doesn’t know what it could be. There was apparently that big destined fight with Michael and Lucifer that Cas talked vaguely about, but he hasn’t learned anything more about it.

He can’t even really begin to imagine what kinda fight it would be. From what he’s read, angels can only be seen by super special people. Since Dean was supposed to be Michael’s, then he must be one of those guys, right? They must look pretty badass if they are soldiers of God, but Michael only looks like a sissy chick in all the pictures he’s depicted in. 

While trying and failing to get answers is the biggest problem he encounters over the course of his day, by night he experiences a form of torture he hasn’t felt since he was a child: dreams so vivid he swears he can still smell burning flesh when he wakes up. When he was young, it had been his mother that was burning; now, it’s him.

Every night since getting settled in the bunker, Dean dreams that his skin is on fire. After what has to be years of agony, pain worse than anything Dean thought could exist, through the flames a hand reaches through, and Dean can swear he hears a chuckle through his own screams as it holds a knife out to him.

Sometimes he elects to stay burning, smelling his own flesh and innards cooking, while screaming and screaming until he wakes up, shaking and covered in sweat. Other times, he takes the knife and the flames are instantly doused, as he knew they would be. Then he’s looking down at someone else, and without hesitating, the knife so cool in his hand compared to what he’d felt moments ago, cuts into them. Carves. 

Every night it’s someone different, never someone that he recognizes. Dean’s initial theory had been that they’re important people from the part of his life that he’d forgotten, but he’s come to think it really is just a stranger. Just a random, unfortunate stranger strapped down to the same rack he had been.

The worst part is that in these dreams, he’s fucking enjoying it. He loves the way the knife feels just as it dips beneath the skin, how it feels to tug organs from a body. When he finally wakes up, he has to race to the bathroom, and when he has nothing left in his stomach he allows himself to wonder, why? Why is he suddenly thinking he’s some kind of torture master every night? How has his mind gotten so fucked up that he dreams shit like that? Is it a symptom from being a headcase?

Tonight, a night where he’s left supporting himself against the sink with trembling arms after rinsing his mouth and splashing water on his face to bring the world back into focus, a new thought occurs to him: These aren’t dreams. They’re memories.

Dean tries to dismiss it; how can they be memories? Where on earth would he have gotten memories like those? 

That train of thought leads to another: What if he’s in Hell? What if all of this, this life in the bunker with his brother and brand new best friend, is some kinda dream that his mind couldn’t take in the burning pit? Or what if it’s like being under the spell of a djinn, where he has this perfect other life, just to drag him down when he’s finally gotten comfortable, down into the fire, never to breathe fresh air again. 

Jesus.

Fuck, fuck, shit shit shit shit--

Breathe. Breathing is important. (Shit.) He bows his head and looks down into the sink, trying to breathe.

Okay. Yeah, he’s okay. He’s okay now. It was just a fucking dream. Not a memory. Nothing to get worked up over. May 2, 2008 has long passed. There’s no hellhound coming after him. He’s not going to Hell. (Not yet.) Just gotta pull himself together. They’re just nightmares, and nightmares can’t last forever, right? 

Yeah. Right.

He gets out of the bathroom and heads back to his room. It’s probably no use to try and get any more sleep tonight, but if he doesn’t get in at least a few hours, then he’s going to be the one who is interrogated by his brother.

Dean is frustrated with his inability to fall back asleep even though he’d expected it. He toys with the possibility of just getting up and drinking himself stupid, and tempting as it is he knows that would result in Sam side-eyeing him with this disappointed look Dean’s been noticing. Apparently Sam isn’t used to him drinking. That, at least, sort of gives him insight into his future self.

Must suck for Sam to watch Dean turn back into the alcoholic that he used to be. He wonders if Sam regrets sticking around all these years, or taking care of his brain damaged brother. Probably. It’s not like he’s smiling much these days.

He sighs loudly. Sam’s not going to get too much sympathy from him, not when Dean’s getting so little from him.

In times like these, when he’s not too keen on talking to Sam, he has to turn to someone else. The obvious option at the moment is Cas.

Dean’s reluctant, though. Sure, Cas seems nice (if pretty fucking weird) and more importantly willing to share what Sam isn’t, but Dean can’t take what he says to be fact. Dean doesn’t trust him, not yet. Sam and Cas both seem to expect him to, as if memories of what great pals they were have magically leaked through the years-long gap in his memory. 

If Sam ever confirms any of the shit Cas said, though, then maybe Dean will consider asking him some other stuff too; with Cas, it’s not like pulling teeth to get some answers like it is with Sam. That thought is fucking depressing, because it should be the other way around. Sam should be the one who’s eager to tell him everything, to just sit him down and tell him from the very last thing he remembers to the day he woke up in the hospital. Guess that’s just too much to ask.

Since Cas isn’t a contender, the next person on the list is Bobby. His heart fucking aches thinking about him. Not a word except his voice message. Dealing with… with what could’ve happened to Bobby would be tough all by itself, but there are other people he’s been thinking about, too.

Ellen and Jo, for instance. Bela. He’s even curious about that bitch Ruby’s whereabouts. And yet… nothing. From any of them. They can’t all be… gone, can they? They just can’t. Half of them are his fucking family. And the other two made enough appearances in his life that he thinks he deserves to know what happened to them.

In fact, he deserves to know what happened to all of them. If they really are all gone… he wants to know how. He wants to know why. And he wants to know if he had anything to do with it. Maybe his future self dealt with whatever it is that happened, but he hasn’t, and he needs to know more than anything else.

So why doesn’t he just go? Sam’s not going to answer his questions; it’s been too long to think that he will. It’s time to answer some of his own questions, Dean thinks. He gets up and dressed, then packs away a week’s worth of essentials-- just in case. The last thing he makes sure he has is a handgun. (It’s gonna be awkward using it left handed, but his dad made sure long ago that he could aim and fire with it in case his right was ever out of commission.) After that, he goes into the kitchen and grabs a beer. Sam can roll his eyes all he wants.

He’s lucking out-- no one’s waking up, or coming out to see what he’s up to. Sam’s gotten too comfortable in this hole, Dean thinks. Being a light sleeper is what keeps them alive sometimes.

Before slipping out the exit, Dean looks behind him one last time. It’s stupid, but some part of him’s hoping that Sam’ll run out and tell him everything, realize that keeping secrets from Dean is only going to make things difficult for both of them. He wants his brother to tell him what he needs to hear instead of having to out and search for answers himself.

Sam doesn’t come out of his room. Dean turns and leaves. 

-

As soon as Castiel wakes up, he knows that something is wrong; it’s far too quiet, even at this early hour. He gets out of bed and goes directly to the kitchen. 

There’s no smell of breakfast, nor are there any sounds of small talk between brothers. On instinct, Castiel speedwalks to Dean’s room. Once he opens the door, he knows, oh, he just knows that Dean is gone. Trying to hold onto hope, he goes through Dean’s dresser only to find his fear confirmed: There are clothes missing, and upon glancing up he can see that there’s a gun missing from the wall. Castiel sighs and sits down on the bed.

Dean is gone. Why didn’t Castiel see this coming? Of course Dean was going to run away. He’s done this before, and with this younger, angrier mentality, it’s a wonder that he didn’t do so sooner.

Sam is going to be angry. 

Abruptly, Castiel gets up and goes to the other Winchester’s room. He can hear muffled speech. Ah. Sam must be speaking with Maya.

That’s too bad.

Castiel opens the door, not really caring if Sam wants any privacy. Sam looks panicked for a minute before stuttering into the phone, “I-I’ll call you right back,” and then hanging up. “Cas, what the hell--”

“Dean is gone, and you need to get up now so we can figure this out.” In Castiel’s opinion, if Sam hadn’t been so cowardly, this wouldn’t have happened. No matter how hard it was going to be, they should have told Dean the truth right away. Now, Dean has probably gone to find the answer himself, which could irreparably destroy both of their relationships with Dean.

Sam seems to understand this too, because his eyes widen and he bolts out of bed.

“He’s gone? What do you-- shit!” The younger Winchester goes directly to his dresser and pulls out a shabby pair of jeans and a slightly wrinkled shirt. “When the hell did he leave? How come we didn’t hear him?” Sam asks. Castiel isn’t sure that he actually wants the answers as much as he wants to get moving. 

“What’s important is that we find him now, and worry about that later. It’s likely that he’s gone to search for some answers.” Castiel knows exactly where Dean has gone. When Dean is in need of information the very first place he would go is--

“Bobby’s,” Sam says breathlessly as he struggles to get his jeans on, clumsy in his haste. “He’s going to Bobby’s. That’s the first person he would’ve gone to. Shit, I-- Cas, how ‘m I gonna explain this? He’s gonna find out that Bobby’s dead, and then he’s--”

“This is exactly what I warned you about,” Castiel snaps. “You have had multiple opportunities to tell Dean what happened. Even if they were not particularly ‘good’ moments, you should have told him. Now that it’s come to this, things are going to be more difficult.” But… Castiel had just as many opportunities to tell Dean. Even if Dean didn’t believe him, maybe he should have told him anyway. That way, when he did try to find the truth, he wouldn’t be as shocked or lost when he saw what was left as he is surely going to be.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know. I just wanted Dean to… to not have to live with everything, you know?” He swallows, looking distraught. Castiel doesn’t sympathize. He can apologize when they get to Dean and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.

Years before Castiel was just starting to really pay attention to Dean’s actions before he went to Hell. The year before, he seemed more reckless than ever. That’s seriously a problem, particularly if they are both right about where Dean is headed.

“Get dressed. Grab something to eat. There’s no telling how much of a head start Dean has had.” With that, Castiel turns and heads back to his own room. He dresses in a hurry, and out of habit tucks a gun into his jeans once he’s done packing an emergency duffel.

He waits in the kitchen for Sam, impatient. Sam isn’t used to getting ready like Castiel is anymore. Since becoming a hunter, Castiel’s become more proficient in human ways. It’s like being a soldier of an entirely different kind than he used to. In a way… he’s glad that Sam doesn’t have to feel this urgency anymore. He deserves the life he’s chosen. Even now.

When Sam comes out, Castiel continues on to the exit. He’ll drive there if he has to, but he doubts that Sam will let him. Not when this is his mistake to fix.

Castiel hates that he notices that the Impala isn’t waiting for them when they’re outside. He can just make out the tire tracks in the dirt.

“C’mon,” Sam says, leading him in another direction. At first, Castiel is confused. He rolls his eyes when Sam leads him to another parking lot a few blocks away. Sam has wasted more time by hiding his ridiculous looking SUV.

“Another thing Dean couldn’t handle?” Castiel asks, giving Sam a pointed look. Without waiting for an answer, he gets into the passenger side and slams the door. Sioux Falls will take hours to get to, and enough time has been lost already.

Sam gets in the car and looks over at Castiel. While he isn’t looking back at Sam, Castiel gets the impression that he wants to say something. Probably an apology of some sort. He knows that Sam is sorry but doesn’t want to hear it right now. There are a few things he has to take care of before he and Sam can talk.

He takes out his phone and dials a number, pressing the buttons faster than he used to, though still slow for someone who is pretending to be a part of this technological age.

“Who’re you calling?” Sam asks, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“Garth,” Castiel answers curtly. Unfortunately, the hunter isn’t picking up right away. “If Dean is heading to Bobby’s, he needs to be warned. There’s no telling what Dean will do if he sees Garth has taken the same headquarters and decided to don his signature clothing, especially if he arrives in an emotional state.” He curses when the line goes to voicemail.

It’s likely that he is on the phone with someone else. These days, Garth has many hunters willing to help clean the last of the supernatural off the planet. Now that the demons are safely locked behind the gates of Hell, there are only the monsters left. Kevin Tran has decided to look into a Purgatory tablet-- in his free time only. Should he find it and translate it, it could mean a better, safer world, but until then, hunters will continue on doing what they were trained to do.

Castiel leaves a quick, awkward voice mail before hanging up. He will call again in a half hour. Garth must be warned. In fact, he probably should have received this call earlier. Damn it. This entire thing was went about in the wrong way.

Dean, he thinks. Just wait. Do not do anything stupid. Stay safe. It’s more a prayer than a thought, he realizes. Hmm. Dean would have laughed at that. Maybe clapped his shoulder. Castiel grips the phone in his lap at that thought. He will be lucky if Dean allows him back in his life at all, at this point.

However, this is not the time to be a wallowing defeatist. Dean needs him. Sam as well. If and when the time comes that Dean no longer wants his… company, then and only then shall he think about his next step. He breathes in deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself. It’s possible to do this. He can do this with a clear mind.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to your brother?” Castiel asks after a moment.

“I-- yeah. ‘Course I have.” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but Castiel can see that he’s clutching the wheel more tightly than necessary. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Not since the hospital. What, you thought I just wanted to keep him in the dark like this forever?”

“Yes.” Castiel knows that if there was any chance he could, Sam would keep his brother ignorant. His reasoning isn’t very sound, nor is it morally good, but Sam can be naive in that way. He wants what’s best for Dean, consequences be damned. It’s a mistake he has repeated time and again, though Sam doesn’t seem to think of them as such.

“I was gonna tell him. I was. But all the shit… Everything that happened, it’s hard to know where to start with all that.” He actually hears Sam swallow. “And then it was just so easy to lie. I couldn’t tell him he was in Hell for forty years. I couldn’t tell him about Maya, ‘cause he’s still stuck in this life. You know? Dean’s always wanted that apple pie life,” Sam says.

Of course Castiel knows. He’s been reminded of it every day, with every hunt.

“It doesn’t really seem fair that I have that life and he doesn’t. He still wants kids, and shit, Cas…” Sam shakes his head. He feels guilt, Castiel realizes, and turns to stare at the side of Sam’s face.

“Dean also wanted for you to be happy, Sam,” he says firmly. “He wanted you to live, and have this life. A safe life. While your brother has trouble expressing himself and his fear of abandonment has clouded his judgement in the past, Dean will be glad to hear that you are living the life that you have always wanted. When you next get the chance-- tell him.” Castiel cannot stress how important this is. “He will be jealous. And he may say some poorly timed phrases-- but ultimately, he will be happy for you. You were a fool for thinking he would have felt otherwise.”

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it. He just shakes his head.

Castiel flips his phone open and dials Garth once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debated whether or not I should add more, and show you Dean's reaction, but hey! Cliffhangers are fun. 
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and comments! They really make me smile. I hope you liked this chapter. I suffered from some writers block, but I carried on. Calmly. 
> 
> I love you all for supporting me. The response has been overwhelming. I just... gah. 
> 
> Anyway. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated! Again, you can find me on tumblr as Nerdkingdean! 
> 
> <3


	5. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both stand in a familiar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS IS LATE. Not edited, but will try and get that done through my very forgiving (love you) beta reader tomorrow! Just didn't want to make you guys wait much longer D:

Driving with one arm isn’t as hard as he thought it was going to be. Sam worried over that for nothing. What he should have been worried about is the cool six pack in the passenger seat. Dean’s done a fair bit of drinking and driving back in the day. There’s the slightest hint of temptation to do so now, but fuck, he would never risk his baby just so he could stop thinking for a few hours. 

The drive to Sioux Falls is long. He called Bobby before he started driving, just to let him know that he was coming by, but of course, there was no answer. Unlike most visits to Bobby’s house, he dreads arriving there. He has no idea what to expect, what he’s going to find. If only he pushed the topic more with Sam. How can he hesitate to ask his own damn brother about another family member?

Fucking pathetic. He shakes his head and grips the wheel. Almost there. He’s close to the only home he’s ever known. If Bobby’s there (and it pains him to think the word ‘if’), then he can ask him what’s been going on since the supposed angel gripped him tight enough from sinking to the pit. Bobby isn’t going to lie to him, not like Sam will. 

Dean’s not that stupid. He gets why Sam is probably keeping shit under wraps. It’s probably because something really bad happened, and so he wants to protect Dean now. What Sam fails to realize is that Dean is the older brother- he’s got no business trying to protect him. This is his life. He has to know what’s going on, otherwise he won’t be able to protect Sam. Five, six years have passed, right? So then Sam has probably had shit happen to him too, and while Dean sucks at the whole comforting bullshit, he can still be there for Sam. 

When it starts to get too quiet, Dean turns the radio up. He hates not having Sam in the passenger seat. Even if they aren’t talking, it’s nice to have some company. He wonders if Cas was good company. Musta been, if they were good friends. 

Thing is, Dean can’t figure it out. Cas, from the few times the spoke, gives off this really weird vibe. He doesn’t talk like anyone else, doesn’t even stand like anyone else. Everything about him is so alien. Don’t get him wrong, if he was honest about keeping him outta Hell, then he’s grateful. He shat his pants thinking about Hell, counting down the days, hours, minutes until he was gone for eternity. Not being in Hell is a plus. But there are plenty of other people who have saved his ass and he never spoke to ‘em again. That’s just how hunting is. So what makes Cas different? 

Maybe he liked Sam first. Dude seems pretty nerdy enough for him to get along with Sam. They probably spend their nights reading thick ass books and combing each other’s hair. Sounds more realistic than anything Dean can come up with about him and Cas. 

Bobby will know. He’ll tell Dean what a pain in the ass he’s been, too. Joke about how he isn’t much different with brain damage. Thinking about that makes him smile a little. It’ll be good to be see a familiar face. To be somewhere he can recognize. Fuck, maybe he’ll be able to remember something when he gets there. Remembering everything would just be… it would be awesome. No more questions. 

He drives at his own pace, checking the rear view mirror more often than he usually does. Sam probably figured it out already. In fact, he’s probably hot wired a car and is racing after Dean now. He scoffs. It’s his own fucking fault that he’s making the trip. Not that the only reason he’s going is to see if Sam’s a liar. 

He wonders if Cas is stuck in the back on this wild chase. It’s like the poor guy is being forced into this. Come to think of it, this amnesia thing is a total out for the guy. Just ‘cause they were friends before doens’t mean that Cas wants to keep it that way. Sam might want an out too, so he’s pushing them together so that he can get the Hell out again. 

Dean really, really hopes that’s not the case. If he’s just as much a fuck wad in the future, he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do. Probably get do the same as he’s always done. Get drunk, fuck a floozy, kill something nasty. Actually, he probably just mapped out the rest of his life. Why would anything change? Whether he’s an asshole, or he’s miraculously turned it all around, hunting is his life. 

Awesome. 

The sky is dim when he finally gets to where Bobby’s place is supposed to be. 

He gets out of the car and just stares at the place. 

This is not Bobby’s. Bobby’s place doesn’t even fucking exist anymore. There’s this new building, right where Bobby’s is supposed to be and it’s all just wrong. He just watches the place, like it’s going to shift back into what it’s supposed to be, but it doesn’t. Nothing stays the same, not when it matters most. 

He sees a shadow moving around inside, and without thinking, he takes the gun out of his waistband and walks forward. 

Who the fuck thinks that they have a right to be here? This is not their property. Dean should burn it down. Maybe he will after he has a sit down with the person inside. 

Full of rage, Dean stalks to the side of the rickety looking place, and presses himself against the wall. He’s got this. This is for Bobby- wherever the Hell he is. He wouldn’t just abandon this place. Not their home. He turns suddenly, and kicks down the door. With his gun raised, he walks down the halls. Dean can’t think straight at the moment- couldn’t do it if he tried. 

The walls are aligned with sigils and other pictures. Some mismatched tables have loads of old books on them. Holy shit. Someone took down Bobby’s house just to make their own place. Another fucking hunter decided to do this. That makes him even angrier. 

A man comes down the stairs with his hands up. He looks squirrely, with a long rounded nose and wide eyes. But that’s not what catches Dean’s attention. Hell no. It’s the fact that he’s got Bobby’s fucking hat on his head. He’s wearing it like a crown that fucking thieving bastard. Dean is definitely going to rip him to pieces. 

“…Dean? Just hold on a second. S-”

What the fuck?

“I suggest you shut the Hell up. I ask the questions.” If he was a better person, killing this man over a death he might not have anything to do with would disgust him. But he’s not a better man. He’s Hell bound, with or without a contract. “Who are you? What happened to this place?”

The man keeps his hands up. He doesn’t look all that dangerous, but until Dean sees otherwise, he’s not taking his gun off him. 

“’M Garth. And… Bobby’s place burned down,” He explains. 

Bobby’s place burned down? Jesus Christ. That’s not okay. The whole salvage yard. That was his only fucking home left. That was Bobby’s home. How the fuck did it burn down? Why would something that horrible happen?

“How?” He asks, far more concerned with that than his stupid name. (Garth. Dumber than Castiel.)

“The Leviathan. Didn’t Sam tell you anything?” The dude sounds genuinely concerned, and that just pisses Dean off even more. 

“I said shut the fuck up,” Dean swallows, his mind reeling. Leviathan? What are the Leviathan? How come he’s never heard of ‘em if they are bad ass enough to take on Bobby? Why wasn’t he there to prevent it from happening? Fuck. “What are the Leviathan? Did we take care of ‘em?”

Garth nods quickly and smiles like he isn’t being held at gunpoint. 

“Yeah. You, Sam, and Cas. Even Crowley and an Alpha Vampire. The whole supernatural world wanted those assholes gone.” 

What about Bobby? Right now, Dean doesn’t give a shit about what all those other names and titles means. He just wants his fucking family. 

“Dean…” Garth starts slowly. Dean wants to tell Garth to shut up, but he can’t find words at the moment. He’s still trying to process everything. All this pent up anger is going to make a bullet in that guys head if he’s not careful. “You and Sam should talk about this. It’s not for me to tell you, okay? You should hear it from your brother.”

“Hear what?” Dean demands. “You’re gonna tell me now. You’re gonna tell me, and you’re not gonna stop, or wait for Sam, or anything. I don’t care. Just fucking tell me.” People have to stop treating him like he’s fragile. He has to know, he has a right to know. What happened to Bobby? 

Then Garth tells him. The floor beneath him seems to shatter, and Dean’s world as he knows it is completely destroyed. 

-

Castiel keeps shooting him looks throughout the whole drive. It’s making him uncomfortable. His guilt alone is enough, he wants to tell the fallen angel. What he did… or the way he went about it, whatever, was not good. Dean might have needed some time, but over the course of the week, Sam slowly could have started to explain. It makes much more sens than to keep it from him forever. 

He dreads what waits for him at Garth’s place. What Dean is going to say. Sam is usually the one walking away from his brother when they have a fight, but something like this? Dean could wash his hands of Sam and just… leave. He’ll get his answers where he can. Sam can’t have that happen. Not now. Not when things were finally starting to be… normal. 

That blank slate that he thought about? The one that he magically got when Dean hit his head? It’s gone now. It’s turned black now that Dean probably know just how much he’s been holding back. Shit. When he learns about everything else, about Ruby and Lucifer, the demon blood… everything. 

The right thing to do should just come to him. He knows his brother better than anyone. So why is this so hard?

“Cas…” He starts, keeping his eyes on the road. “I know you hate what I did, and that you think I deserve whatever is about to come, but… I just thought what I was doing was best for Dean,” It’s an excuse, it’s just a shitty excuse. 

He can feel Cas’ eyes on him. 

“I know, Sam. Someday, Dean will know that too,” He hears a quiet sigh. “Now, we just need to give him the time to process, and to forgive.” 

Time. Castiel thinks that Dean is going to leave too, doesn’t he? It’s all his fault. He’s played with Dean’s memories, and now it’s going to affect all three of them. Castiel doesn’t deserve to lose his best friend. Not like this. It wasn’t his decision to keep everything away from Dean. If Dean listens to even a word Sam has to say, he’ll tell Dean. It probably won’t make a difference, but someone has to speak for him. 

“I’m sorry,” He says. “What I asked… that wasn’t fair. I know it wasn’t. He’s… he’s your family too. I should have acted like I was the only one who had a say in the matter.” What really hits him is that Dean is the one who thought of Castiel as family more than Sam did. Yes, Sam would die for Castiel, but Dean? He would go through Hell to save Cas, just as the Angel did for his brother. 

Castiel doesn’t say anything, so Sam glances at him. He’s looking out the window, and his shoulders were tense. If it wasn’t so dark out, then he’d stare longer, try to see his reflection in the window. He wants to know if Castiel accepts his apology. If he does, then Dean might. 

The silence is defeaning. 

It’s nearly nine o clock when they get to Garth’s. It’s too quiet. Sam purses his lips, and hesitates before he gets out of the car. There is no turning back on his brother. He is going to fix this, face his mistakes. If Dean doesn’t want to talk to him, then fine. But Dean also has the right to yell at his brother, scream in his face about everything he did. 

Cas walks beside him. It’s probably not safe if Castiel goes in alone. Whatever Garth tells Dean, nothing will describe their relationship acurately. On top of that, the man might accidentally tell Dean all the things that Castiel has done. They ahve all hard their fair share of destroying the world. Unfortunately, since Castiel is the stranger, it makes him the easier target out of all of them. 

Sam does not make it inside the headquarters. Instead, Dean comes storming out, and before Sam even gets to say an apology, he’s being punched in the face. Dean really must have used a great deal of strength. Even for his left hand, that hurt like a bitch.

Sam spits and looks up at Dean sheepishly. His brother looks like he wants to punch him again, and he just might. 

“Dean-”

“Bobby’s dead?” He yells. That hurt more than the punch. “Bobby’s dead and you didn’t think about telling me? What, did it slip your fucking mind? Are you the one who forgot about it?” 

Sam braces himself for another punch in the face when Dean pulls his arm back, but the fist drops. He hasn’t seen his brother’s eyes look so wild in so long. It doesn’t even look like he’s been drinking. 

This is what he’s done. 

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t ask? What the fuck were you thinking? How could you do this, Sam?” His voice breaks. Dean’s voice breaks and it’s killing him. This is just as bad as when Bobby died the first time. This… this is all fresh to Dean, just like he knew it would be. Except Sam’s the one that killed him. 

“Dean… I just wanted-” This time he is punched again. Now he’s got a split lip. He licks the wounded lip and looks back up at Dean. The skin on his knuckles looks broken. 

“Oh, you wanted? That is the worst bullshit I’ve ever heard,” How can Dean say that, when he didn’t even get to finish what he was going to say? Sam did what he could to keep his brother safe. Dean has done the exact same thing. “This is Bobby we’re talking about, and you’re trying to sell me that? You wanted?”

When he puts it that way… Sam can really understand where he’s coming from. Even when he got his soul back and Dean hid his memories, it wasn’t from other people. He doesn’t deserve this. 

Suddenly, Dean turns pale, his eyes wide. “Who else?” He chokes out.

“Wha-”

“I said… who else?” Dean’s voice is dangerously low. 

Sam licks his lips and looks over his shoulder. Castiel is not going to help him out on this. He’s on his own. More than anything, he wishes that he didn’t have to do this. Not to Dean. Dean is the most family oriented person he knows. 

“Ellen,” Sam is utterly and completely defeated. “Jo. Bela. Couple people you can’t remember.” He can’t bring himself to tell Dean that Lisa and her kid don’t remember him. It’s making the same mistake twice, but… he just can’t. Not when Dean looks… 

Dean runs a hand through his hair. It’s hard to see in this light, but he can see his brother’s eyes get glassy. But with Winchesters, it’s always easier to express anger rather than misery. He sees another punch coming from a mile away. 

What he didn’t see was Garth coming up behind Dean and holding him back. Dean writhes and struggles to get away, looking more angry as well as broken by the with each pull. 

“Let me go! Get your fucking hands off me!” Garth is stronger than he looks. He’s holding Dean back pretty well. Sam kinda wants him to let Dean go. What’s a few more punches in the face, huh? What can he say? Honestly, what can he say? No apology will ever make up for this. So he stands there and watches Dean try to get away from Garth just so he can beat him up with one arm.

Garth eventually peeps out from over Dean’s shoulder and says, “I think you should go, Sam,” He looks hurt that the brothers are like this. Since he took on his role as ‘Bobby’, he guesses that he took on some care for them as well. Frankly, it’s bizarre, but he can’t argue with him on this case. Dean needs his space. 

He turns to leave, and just catches Castiel’s eye as he does. It was then he realized that he didn’t get to keep his promise to him, that he didn’t tell Dean that he had nothing to do with this. He prays that he didn’t destroy two relationships tonight. 

-

He’s not sure why, but he stays at Garth’s place. 

Well, maybe it’s because he’s rip roaringly drunk and too emotionally drained to walk, let lone drive anywhere. Anyway. Garth had set up a room for the Winchesters (“And Cas, too!”) in this new… Hunter’s HQ thing. It’s not the same as the room he had at Bobby’s. Nothing is the same. When he’s in bed, he takes out his phone and scrolls through his contacts list. 

After he got out of the hospital, he put all the numbers he knew for everyone in it. Why wouldn’t he? Now there’s no real need for them. No one is going to answer the phone if he calls them. There’s no new number. 

One by one, he deletes their information. It’s a slow process. Each one, he looks at for a long ass time. He thinks about what memories he has of them. It sucks that he can’t have them all, when there already is so few. It’s not fucking fair that his family was stolen from him. Jo… Jo didn’t even hit thirty, did she? Everyone told her not to hunt. Ellen included. Fuck. Ellen was probably there with her, wasn’t she?

Bela. Yeah, okay. He hated her. He fucking hated that bitch. More than once he’s wanted to shoot her, or smack that cocky smile off her face. He didn’t wish death on her. Not seriously. He didn’t kill her, did he? Dean closes his eyes. There’s a big possibility that he did. 

He throws his phone across the room and watches it smash. It does nothing to ease the anger or the pin. All it does is make his left arm sorer than it was before. 

Dean lets his head fall back. He glares at the ceiling. If angels exist, then god does too. 

“You son of a bitch,” He spits. “Haven’t you taken enough? What more do you want from me?” 

God and Sam. The two people he’s most angry at.

Closely followed by Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. 

How could they leave him? How could Sam lie so easily about everyone? Dean knew he was holding something back, but that was a bitch of a thing to hold back. He can’t talk to him. Not yet. Just… he keeps thinking about everything. Maybe he should be more concerned about what else happened in these past few years, but what could be worse than everyone he knows dying?

Which leaves what he’s going to do next. Unfortunately, he’s going to have to wait until his arm is all healed up before he can do anything. After that… well. He might as well go back to doing the only thing he knows how to do. Hunting. With or without Sam, he guesses. 

Funny how the guy he gave his soul up for is now someone he can’t talk to. 

Dean sits up suddenly. The room spins and he feels like he’s going to hurl if he ever moves again. It doesn’t matter though, because he has an idea. Why didn’t he think of it before? He grabs his coat and he runs down the stairs, not caring in the least bit that he might wake Garth up. This is too important.He rummages through the kitchen for something, and when he finds it, he nearly grins. 

He gets outside and starts walking. It doesn’t take long to find a crossroads. 

The way he thinks of it is this: He’s already sold his soul once, right? Dean thinks he’s pretty much gonna end up in Hell no matter what, so what’s the point of keeping his soul if he can put it to use else where? He bends down and digs a hole in the dirt, trying not to think about how many days the demon will leave him with this time. Then, he flicks the tin open, takes his wallet out, and places his picture in it. He finishes it off by adding some other items from his pocket before he buries it. 

Then he stands and waits. 

And waits. 

He keeps turning, waiting to see a demon behind his shoulder, mocking him. But no one ever turns up. Dean is completely alone, and not even a demon is gonna come to the rescue this time. He cries out, frustrated and angry. 

The numb feeling returns. He turns and walks back to the place where his home used to stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get much feedback last time, guys. Please, please let me know what you think, if the characters are OOC, or if you think the plot is dumb. It's the only way I improve!
> 
> Other than that, thanks so much for all the kudos! I appreciate every single one of you lovelies. <333
> 
> Until next week!


	6. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Dean's discovery leads to ideas, new and old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say anything except I'm sorry this is so late. Also this one isn't editted either because I wanted to get it to you guys. NEXT WEEK IT WILL BE SHINY.

It is difficult to do as he’s told. He doesn’t want to leave Garth’s hunter HQ, not with Dean looking like he is. Castiel has only seen him like that a few times in his life. Witnessing it as he’s leaving is not any easier than the other times. But what can he do? Garth was a stranger to Dean as much as he was, yet he told him the truth. Garth did the right thing. He only wishes that he was the one to tell Dean first. 

He regrets what happened, as well as how it happened. To dwell on it longer than he already has wouldn’t be wise, but… he can’t help himself. He can’t stop seeing Dean’s face, the way he thrashed trying to get out of Garth’s arms, just to beat the person he loves most in the world. Dean doesn’t deserve to feel like that, not when he’s finally escaped that life of tragedy. 

His hands curl into fists. Sam should not have kept things from him. Telling Dean might have triggered him to remember. It might have eased the pain. They might have been able to avoid all this. Castiel wouldn’t be in this car, he wouldn’t be heading back to the batcave without Dean, he wouldn’t have lost… 

They pass a streetlight, and Castiel catches his reflection in the window. He’s angry, that’s plain to see on his face. Dean has taught him that it’s easy to be angry rather than hurt. He feels cheated that Dean is the only one who got to punch Sam. 

No, he’s not like that. Hurting Sam won’t fix anything. Neither will holding onto his anger. It’s been so difficult to let his anger go. Anger, he realizes, isn’t the only thing he’s feeling. He feels regret. Sam is still his friend despite his poor decisions, and no matter how hard he tries to deny it, he took part as well. Castiel wants Dean happy as much as Sam does. 

Though… he was happy before the retrograde amnesia. 

He was happy with Castiel, wasn’t he? The hunts didn’t come as often, Dean cooked, Castiel read beside him on the couch. They shared a home, Castiel’s first home. He wants everything to go back to the way they were before. Dean will not want that now. 

Castiel wants to go home. 

He watches his reflection get closer until his head hits the window. Being a human has many disadvantages, far more than he was prepared to take on. For example: exhaustion. Sam hasn’t stopped driving since they left Garth’s. He hasn’t stopped to pick up food, or to relieve himself. Castiel believes that they are going to spend a few more hours in the car, though he’s not sure he understands why. There isn’t a point to this, he thinks bitterly. 

It’s Dean he thinks about. He wonders what he’s doing right now. Drinking, most likely. Drinking until he will pass out. That is what Dean would do. Mourning all those people at once. He’s worried that he will try to do something foolish, that Garth won’t be able to stop him from doing something. Should he pray? Dean wouldn’t appreciate it. Not this Dean, and certainly not from him. 

So now what? He doesn’t know where to go from here. Normally, he isn’t so dependent. Castiel is… was a soldier of God. Dependency isn’t something he’s proud of. Humanity is still something he’s getting used to. Dean hasn’t finished teaching him how to drive. He can’t hunt unless he can drive properly, and if he can’t hunt…

He sighs. 

It’s not just the hunting, or the humanity. Dean is his… friend. He wants him back. After everything that has happened with heaven, falling and losing his grace, he thinks he deserves to have one person. And Dean- he needs someone right now. Dean is not going to tolerate Garth. 

If only the gates of heaven haven’t closed. Castiel knows that if he had his grace, he could at least watch over Dean. Being invisible while watching over the man has saved him a few times, if he recalls correctly. He will have to adapt, find new ways to protect Dean from afar, even when he isn’t wanted. Somehow, he will have to track Dean down. He remembers a time when he had to worry about the markings carved into Dean’s ribs keeping him from being found. Now he just has to worry about finding Dean at all. 

Suddenly, he finds himself looking at the entrance to the batcave. He lifts his head from the window and looks over at Sam. 

Sam is looking down at his lap, looking as if he wants to say something. Usually, Castiel would wait until Sam would speak, but he’s tired. 

“What is it?” 

Sam doesn’t look up. He sighs and shakes his head, his long hair falling from behind his ear. 

“I just…” He shrugs. “I have no idea how to… how to apologize for everything, or to even begin repairing all the shit I’ve done. I can’t even imagine what Dean’s going through right now,” That much was already obvious, but he doesn’t say so. The heat from the car has fogged the windows up. When Sam jabs a button. The fog slowly creeps up back into the corners, though it’s still sticking to the sides. 

Suddenly, Sam looks over to him. “He’s gonna need some time, I bet. No way is he gonna come talk to me anytime soon. There’s some things I got to do. So… if he does come back… well…” His gaze shifts over to Castiel. “Can you stay here? Just in case. I won’t be gone long.” 

“You’re going to see Maya.” Castiel says without hesitation. Of course he’s going to see Maya. In light of recent events, Sam is going to want to talk to someone close to him, go over his mistakes, silently ask for comfort and the closeness of another human being. Why wouldn’t he go see his girlfriend? It’s the obvious thing to do. He’s envious that Sam has a person like that to go to, while Castiel’s has faded away. 

Not that he and Dean were romantically entangled like Sam and Maya were. Not yet, he thinks. The thought stings, and he pushes it away as he has been pushing it away since Dean has looked at him like a stranger in the hospital. 

“I-yeah…” He’s embarrassed. Or guilty? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between the two, particularly in someone who isn’t Dean. Castiel finds that it’s easier to read the person who he has crafted nearly from scratch. “Yeah, I am. I gotta talk to her. Figure some things out. Then I’ll come back, and we’ll talk. You know, see what Garth knows. See if Dean’s willing to… talk.” 

Talking would be good. When Dean isn’t in a complete rage, or drunken state, he’s more likely to listen to what Sam has to say. They can speak abut everything that has happened. Then Dean will see that even he would have hid the truth for a time. In fact, he has done that. Things… he wants them to work out, but Castiel thinks that Sam is underestimating the time that Dean will need to go over what has happened. 

“Take the time you need, Sam,” He says reassuringly. “I will be there if Dean needs me.” 

Sam smiles weakly. This is probably a social cue for him to leave. Their discussion is over. He turns and opens the door. Just as he’s about to close it, Sam says, “Hey, Cas?” 

Castiel turns his head. 

“I’m sorry. Dean’s not the only one who got screwed over.” Castiel supposes that he should appreciate Sam’s apology, forgive him for what he’s done. After all, it was done with good intentions. He knows that, has known that from the beginning. Like Dean, he can’t forgive Sam right away. Everyone was affected by his decisions. Just as his human life was beginning, it screeched to a stop, with Sam ensuring that it wouldn’t go any farther, not on the path he was curious to go down. 

“Goodbye, Sam,” He closes the car door and walks towards the entrance of the batcave. 

As he enters the eerily quiet bunker, he’s reminded of how alone he really is. The lights aren’t on. They left in a hurry trying to catch up to Dean. It did no good today. He sighs, then goes to the kitchen.

It’s late, and he probably shouldn’t, but he pulls out a bottle of beer. His alcohol tolerance is nothing like when he was an angel. The first time he drank without having his grace was a nightmare. He woke up feeling horrible. From then on, he drank in moderation. The good thing about the drink was that it helped him sleep at night. Dean thought that it was funny that alcohol put him to sleep. 

There are certain places in the bunker that he envisions Dean existing, like by the couch, watching that ridiculous television show. He would be laughing, his head back, mouth open wide, eyes squeezed shut. His shoulders would be shaking, tears just starting to form by the corners of his eyes. Castiel smiles at the thought. 

It’s a recycled memory. He’s never been very creative. There’s only so many ways that he can imagine Dean. He wishes that he could, especially now. 

He sits in his usual spot on the couch. Humans are creatures of habit, and Dean is particularly territorial over the few places that he has to call his own. If Dean knew that he sat in his spot, he’d get smacked upside the head. Playfully, of course, but still. 

Dean received a call from Garth on this couch. A hunt, nothing seriously dangerous, should be quick. He grumbled and moaned about it, told Garth to give it to ‘one of the kiddies’, but took it eventually. Castiel told him not to complain. It’s a good thing that hunts aren’t so difficult anymore. Dean smiled widely. 

Castiel thinks he was remembering when the gates were closing. Team Free Will’s biggest accomplishment. He remembers smiling a little too, sharing the memory. They spoke, agreeing that they should get this done sooner rather than later. It was a werewolf, not too far from where they were. It was just morning, so they had time. 

This was the last hunt they would have together. 

Just by the door, Castiel remembers that Dean stopped. He remembers being crowded against the wall, and looking into Dean’s eyes, feeling confused. 

What he remembers most vividly is the feeling of Dean pressing his lips to his. Dean was kissing him. Gently kissing. He was too confused and surprised to kiss back for a moment. Then the moment passed, and of course he kissed back. How could he not?

It was very different from kissing Meg, or one of the whores from the house of inequity. He enjoyed it far more. It meant more. Not only to Castiel, but Dean, too. Dean has never kissed someone like this before. Not recently, anyway. There wasn’t any tongue, just the slow gentle kissing. 

Unfortunately, Dean pulled away. He turned too quickly for Castiel to read his expression. 

“Dean, what-” 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean ran a hand through his short hair, and sighed. “Look man. Let’s just… talk about it later, okay? After the hunt.” 

It was disappointing. All Castiel wanted was for answers. Or to continue kissing. Whichever Dean preferred. Yet, he knew that Dean did not like to talk. There was never a time when Dean wanted to talk, or worse, express his feelings. 

If Dean didn’t want to talk about it, it bode well for… whatever it was they were doing, yes? Not talking meant that it meant something. 

“After the hunt?” He asked again, uncertain. 

Dean looked over his shoulder with a smile, the sun outlining his features. To Castiel, nothing in his thousands of years of being looked better. 

“Promise.” 

But there was no ‘after the hunt’. Only the aftermath. Dean does not remember. He doesn’t remember their kiss, that he was the one that initiated it, or that he promised to talk about it. 

Castiel leans back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling. He prays, as he always does in moments of uncertainty and loneliness. 

If he cannot have Dean any other way than in friendship, that’s fine. More than fine. Whatever way he can have Dean back, he will take. 

He frowns, then decides that if he makes statements like that, he has to honor those words. Castiel, against all odds, has made a friendship with Dean. Through his resistance against heaven, through his secrets, the Leviathan, and Purgatory. Even when Castiel nearly killed Dean on a command, they remained friends. 

Which means that he can do it again. All he has to do, is give it time. Then, when Dean returns to hunting (which Castiel knows he will, because Dean knows no other life), Castiel will join him and protect him. 

This, he swears. 

-

After his biggest betrayal to his brother so far (probably), Sam heads back to his house. There’s a lot he owes not just to Dean, but to Maya, and even Macy. Since he’s got to wait for Dean to cool off, he figures that this is the time to do it. 

When he and Maya moved in together, they promised one another that their life of hunting was over. Just the normal, apple pie life. It was a good life. Sam got a job at the animal shelter. It doesn’t pay much since it’s nonprofit, but it gets them by. Maya did some computer editing thing, which she was apprehensive about showing him. That was okay, though he wishes that he could help.

He’s not sure what he wants to say to her. Maybe he needs to be yelled at right now. Or maybe he needs the company of someone he loves. Sam’s not entirely sure what he needs right now, but he needs it. Needs it bad. 

What he did to Dean was obviously the dumbest thing he’s ever done- and he’s done a lot of stupid crap. This betrayal is worse because it wasn’t just about Dean this time. It wasn’t about lying, or drinking demon blood. It was family. To Dean, there is nothing more important on this planet than family, and Sam, in his mind, messed with that. 

That wasn’t what I meant, He thinks, half heatedly trying to defend himself. All I wanted was to protect him. Dean would get that, wouldn’t he? He’s not so sure. Sam has never forgotten anything for so long that he missed the death of someone important, let alone three or four. 

Now that he’s got time to think to himself on it, well… He realizes how bad it was. It wasn’t fair, even if he was trying to protect Dean. By now, he should know better than anyone that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Maybe he’s just got to stop trying to do ‘good’. All the shit he’s done trying to be good really has caused nothing but trouble. 

He laughs and shakes his head. Why doesn’t this come naturally to him? Why is it so hard to just do something right for once? Hiding their deaths wasn’t some plot to get Dean, or to hide his dumb mistakes. It was appealing to have a clean slate, but Sam can’t believe that that’s what he did all this for. What Sam does is for his brother. He wanted Dean to think that his family was still around. Instead, he got to find out that the only he had left was a liar of a brother. 

Dean hasn’t… well, he hasn’t really had a girlfriend in forever, has he? Last person he remembers is Lisa, and well… That ended about as well as it could everyone. Since then, he’s just been sleeping around. Not lately, though. Sam suspects that Dean hasn’t slept with anyone since he got back from purgatory. So why is it the one person he knows that’s more family oriented than anyone else doesn’t ever seem to have one? 

Maybe he found family in Castiel. It would explain why he keeps sticking around him, why Castiel is now living in the bunker with them. Over the years, it’s gotten harder and harder for him to place their relationship. The trust they put in each other is outstanding. Even when they both have betrayed each other at some point, they always go back to each other. 

Sam would call them brothers, but that’s not exactly it either. Whatever they are, they’re close. Were close. 

It makes him realize that dividing them might have been the shittiest part of the amnesia thing. Sam wanted Dean to believe that his family was there, but his family was there all along. Castiel would always be there for Dean. And Sam would come running. He’d always be there for Dean too. 

That could be why Castiel protested so much. Because he lost the only family he had left. Plus… he hates thinking about it this way, but all those angels that have died in the recent years? That was Castiel’s family once, and he’d watch them die, or feel forced to kill them. 

Without meaning to, he’s taken families away from both of them. 

It’s late, really late, by the time he gets to his house. He knows that Maya knows he’s here, because Macy is barking. There’s a figure standing by the window, and he knows it’s her. He gets out of the car and trudges up to the door. When he opens it, he’s not sure whether to brace himself, or to feel relieved. 

Maya is a small woman, only 5’2”. She has dark skin, short hair, and bright blue eyes. He always thought that they stood out more than anyone else’s. Her slender, but strong hands sit on her hips, but then her arms wrap around him. Maya grips him tightly, and he guesses that she could tell that everything went to hell by the look on his face. 

“I messed up,” He says into her hair. She smells good. Like home. Macy keeps trying to get in between them, obviously excited to see Sam, but he doesn't let go of Maya. Not yet. 

“I know,” She says softly. Then she pulls back and looks him directly in the eye. Funny how she can make him feel so tiny. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You made a dumbass move,” He bows his head, trying not to look at her. Here comes the ‘I told you so’. “Hey. It’s over. Now we just gotta make sure that we fix it, okay? We’ll deal with the aftermath. That’s what hunters do.” She reaches up and places her hands on his face. 

He nods half heatedly, and she grips his face a little tighter. The pressure against his bruises hurt, but he doesn't pull away. It’s not that bad. 

“I said we’ll figure it out.” She sounds so confident. How does she do that? How does she ground him, give him hope? “But we can’t figure shit out until you get some rest. Come to bed, okay?” He nods, and finally enters their house. 

It’s stupid, he thinks as he walks to the bathroom to wash up, but he prays to Castiel. Obviously he lost his grace a while ago, and it’s impossible for him to hear anything, but he prays for forgiveness. And, as always, he prays that Castiel watches out for his brother. Somehow, he thinks that he doesn't have to pray to hard for that last part. Watching over each other is what this family does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your comments are wonderful. I seriously... thanks so much for all the feedback. The reason I was late is that I had a bad mental health day. After that, I couldn't write a word. Not really. If I'm late posting, you can always check my blog nerdkingdean.tumblr.com. It likely has the answer why. 
> 
> Also! I think I replied to every comment, though I'm not entirely positive. I make a special effort to reply to everyone, as everyone's comment is important to me. :3 
> 
> Thanks for everyone's support. Next weeks chapter will have Dean- I know this wasn't as exciting as the last chapter, but the next one should be better. 
> 
> <333


	7. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY. Also, this is unbeta'd. I love you.

One Month Later

 

Dean rubs his wrist and checks out the window, keeping an eye on the white van. He’s pretty sure that that’s the one that’s holding all the blood that has recently been stolen. What kind of a sick world is it when vamps start stealing blood supply? What, isn’t the fresh stuff good enough for them anymore? 

I mean, I guess that’s better than turning humans into their own personal tap, but, Dean sighs. Either way, what they’re doing is bad news. People might need that blood. Plus, vamps are vamps. They have to bite the dust because of what they are, and that’s the way things should be. Everything evil belongs six feet under. 

This is the first time he’s out on a hunt since… well, whenever the last hunt was. It’s hard to put a time stamp on anything. Amnesia can be a pain that way. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Thing is, he’s finally back, and it feels good. 

Just yesterday, he took off his cast that covered his arm. It might be a little under the healing period, but so what? It’s just a little sore. He’s been doing well so far. It’s not the first time he’s had to work under stressful conditions. In fact, he bets that working under 100% will just make him focus more. So really, it’s not problem. 

Before he took the cast off, he’s been scouring every hunt near and far. As soon as he’s done with this one, he wants to hit the road and get to the next one. Dean is planning to stay busy for a very long time. Unfortunately, the monster/demon population has considerably decreased since he woke up, especially in the area of demons. He can’t be positive, but it seems to him that there’s not one demon left roaming the planet. 

It makes him think back to that night, when his whole world was shaken. There wasn’t a crossroads demon there. At first, he thought it was because he already made a deal. Maybe demons weren’t too keen on a used product. It seems too good to be true, but… there just aren’t any demons left. None. They were his specialty, the things that were easiest for him to kill, yeah, but good riddance. There is plenty evil in the world to kill. 

He does wonder why there are monsters if there aren’t any demons, though. It doesn’t make much sense. In his mind, all those fuckers belong in the same fiery pit. Whatever. It’s not like he can do anything else with his skill set, right? Plus, there are a bunch of hunters out there who are probably better off hunting. Better for society, that is. 

Enough about thinking about that night. He’s thought about it way too much, and cause of that, he’s been drinking more than he should be. And that’s him admitting to that. His body isn’t as young as it once was, and he can only handle putting so much shit into his body at once. 

So now, he’s sitting by the roadside, waiting for his perp to come out and make an appearance. He only saw his back as he entered what looked like a cafe, and that was hours ago. Dean had to go to a diner across the street and watch from the window, the dude was in there so long. It’s one of the hardest parts about hunting, he thinks. Waiting. Since he woke up in the hospital, all he’s been doing is waiting. In the end, he suspects that his first kill since recovery is going to be all the better. 

Dean takes a swig from a scotch bottle he bought earlier today. He’s not sure if it’s sad or predictable that it’s almost empty. Probably a little bit of both. He caps it, then props it against his leg again. 

Finally, his suspect comes into view. Big burly guy with a hat comes out. Reminds him of a bear, almost. He doesn’t really have that evil monster of the night feel, but he’s the one who gets into the driver’s seat of the white van. Too bad he was obvious about his non-pattern. He wonders if this guy used to be a hunter. It would kind of make sense, considering all the precautions he’s taking. 

When the guy finally drives away, Dean starts to follow after him. He’s been itching to kill something. Now is his chance. His first time in a month- or however long it’s been since that hunt with Cas and Sam. It’s definitely time to get back on his feet. Once this is done, he’s got another nice and easy hunt all lined up for him. 

Stay busy, Dean reminds himself. Don’t think about it. Not about Sam or Cas or Bobby or any of them. The moment he allows himself to think will be the moment that he crashes and burns to a crisp. His drinking will get worse, and eventually, he will make a mistake on a hunt. Maybe even intentionally. 

So yeah, basically sticking to hunting and mapping out the next few hunts is what is keeping him alive. If only father dearest could see him now. He’d be so proud. 

As the drive progresses, the itch gets stronger. Once he ganks this guy, he’s sure to feel better. There hasn’t been a real way to express his anger since that night, and it’s been slowly building since then. His hand on the wheel tightens. It’s not healthy to keep all that anger in, right? He’s doing the world a favor in more ways than one by doing this. 

The white van parks near a woodsy area, and the vampire gets out without looking back. It gives Dean the impression that he wasn’t a hunter in his past life after all. Rookie mistake. Always look in all directions. It’s probably more important to do that out on the road at night, then in a car. At least it is for freaks like him. 

Dean parks not too far away, and waits for a few minutes. Is this guy one of those granola nerds that likes sleeping under the stars? Well, it sucks for him. He should know better than to be alone in the woods at night. 

For a few minutes, Dean waits in the car. He doesn’t want to alert the vamp that he’s in the area. Now that he’s without a partner, it’s probably not a good idea to be as reckless as he usually is. Even if he wants to be. 

Instinct tells him when to get the move on. The Impala door creaks open, and is just as loud when he closes it. As much as he loves his baby, it’s one of the cons on a hunt. He pops the trunk, and gets out a machete. Holding the weapon makes him feel stronger than he has in weeks. Again, he’s reminded how good it feels to be on the hunt. This is where he belongs: on the battlefield. 

The woods are kinda creepy. No amount of training is ever going to wash that feeling away for him. If anything else, it just gets creepier with age. That’s because he knows what’s out there, what the woods are always full of. He shakes his head. Dean isn’t sure how strong the vampire is, and he doesn’t want to fuck up by being creeped out by a bunch of dark branches. 

Dean walks for about ten minutes, looking for tracks and listening for any sound. Except there were none. He stands up straight, kinda pissed off. Did he actually manage to lose a vampire in the woods? That is really amateur of him. He can’t even blame this on being out of commission. Dad drilled tracking monsters, even through shitty dark forests into their heads. 

He hears a quiet, barely there step. 

Then, he’s pressed against the hard bark of a tree, his bad arm twisted uncomfortably so that he can’t use it. Dean grunts, and tries to kick the monster, but somehow, the monster saw it coming and stepped away. Although the knife is held in his captive arm, he still has a free one, and tries to elbow the fucker in the face. That proves just as unsuccessful as his first attempt. 

He’s dead. That’s it. He’s gonna die because he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. What would Bobby say about this? Or Sam? They’d think he’d come out here to die on purpose, that’s what. He’s ashamed and frustrated. Dean struggles uselessly against the vamp, waiting for teeth to sink into this neck. But it doesn’t come. What the fuck?

“What’re doin’ brother?” The deep, rumbling southern accent sounds completely unfamiliar to him… but the words ring a bell. That’s much creepier than any forest during a full moon. “Knew we were at the end of the line, but didn’t think we’d cross another.”

Again, Dean struggles. This guy must be playing some trick on him. A new kind of vampire that reads minds, or some shit. Fuckin’ vamps. “Lemme go, and I’ll show you what fuckin’ line you crossed.” Well, that was lame. 

The vampire doesn’t let him up, but still isn’t attacking. What, is he playin’ with his food? Dean thinks. He’s not going to feel grateful because a vampire feels a little merciful over shoddy hunting. 

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” The vampire is really calm, and it makes Dean really wary. Sure, he has plenty of reason to feel confident, but he’s not the least bit worried about backup, or whatever? “So you’ve got no reason to want to hunt me.” 

“You’re a vampire. I got every reason!” Sam would be saying how stupid it is to tempt fate, but whatever. 

“Where’s your angel? And Sam?” It’s like he’s trying to figure something out, but that just gives Dean the final piece. He struggles to get a good look at the vampire’s face, see what the fuck this is all about.

“You know me? How? You following me?” The hold on him is slightly tighter. It makes him angry. Does he have Sam? Or Cas? Shit. How could he possibly have gotten them? No, he couldn’t have. Right? Sam is capable, and has years of experience. Cas was apparently an angel, or something. They have to be alright. 

“You don’t remember Purgatory, do you?” 

Dean stops struggling, dread filling him. 

“The one in Miami?” Jesus Christ, he hopes that he’s wrong. Or maybe it was a case. Yeah, it’s got to be something about a case.

“It’s the place monsters go when they die.” Sounds about right. 

“Yeah, right. What about hell?” He tries to get a good look at the vampire, but only ends up having his face pressed against the bark harder. It’s not really helping the vampire’s case right now. 

“Hell is for demons and people who make one mistake too many. Monsters go in a different direction.” The vampire says gruffly. Dean expected him to be an awful liar, but he’s actually pretty good. Unless he’s not. If he knows about Sam and Castiel, then something weird is going on. 

“’K. So then how d’you know about me and Sam?” He grins. “We send you there at some point?” Dean knows that he’s almost asking to get ganked himself. Pushing his luck while a vamp has his arm twisted the way it is- he’s really got to learn how to shut up. 

“Actually, you got sent there yourself. The leviathan ring any bells?” 

Dean frowns and thinks. The leviathan? No, he’s never heard of them. The crap the vampire is trying to spin doesn’t make any sense. But then… why isn’t he dead yet? The vampire has every reason in the world to kill him. Yet, he’s talking to Dean like he’s an old war buddy. He’d think it was a trap, if he already wasn’t kind of screwed. “…No. What they hell are they?”

There’s a pause, then, “Tell you what: I let you go, and we go somewhere very public and talk about this. Good as it is to see you, brother, I don’t trust you won’t kill me now, and you probably think the same of me,” It sounds reasonable enough, but he still doesn’t like walking all the way back to the Impala without back up. He hears a dark chuckle and struggles to get free again. 

“I’ll walk ahead of you, if it makes you feel any better. Don’t try to kill me, though- been to that rodeo before. I think after we’ve had a little chat you’ll remember that it wasn’t very agreeable with me.” Slowly, he backs away from Dean, his hands held high to show peace. Dean steps back, his face and arm aching, then turns quickly to keep his eye on the vamp. So far, so good, but he still doesn’t trust him. 

They walk slowly, eyes always on each other. It’d be funny to see himself now, walking forward, gripping his knife (though lowered), while the vamp walks backwards with his hands up. The vampire obviously knows that if he makes one wrong move, it’s off with his head. Thing is, he knows how Dean fights, and that’s fucking terrifying. Dean can’t let his guard down for a second. 

Going out to talk about this supernatural crap in public is risky for everyone else. The research he’s done on this guy, however, shows that he won’t hurt a fly. Not even if provoked. After all, he stole that blood not from a warm body, but from a hospital. 

Fuck. If only Sam was here. He’d have a better idea what to do. 

Actually, probably not. Dean sometimes gets the feeling that he wants to bang the demon that used to hang around them (seriously, what happened to her?), so he’d probably sympathize with the vampire. 

The vampire gets into his white van then smiles at Dean. For some reason, it doesn’t piss him off. He does know this vampire from somewhere. That makes him wary. This guy could mean anything to him. A friend, a foe, a predator. He can’t just start trusting him because his smile wasn’t evil looking. That’s another Sam thing right there. 

Shit. Dean shakes his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sam so much. It’s been such a natural think in the past, that it’s become a hard habit to shake. His default thought shouldn’t be about Sam, especially not right now. Plus, Dean is the one on a hunt. His life is the only one he should be thinking of. Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done. 

The van in front of him starts, and for a wild moment, Dean thinks the vampire is going to run him over. What a stupid way to be killed, he thinks. The vampire looks like he’s about to laugh at Dean, and it only makes Dean redden in anger. He stomps all the way over to the Impala, thinking that he should have just killed the damn monster while he still had the chance. 

The van pulls away, and drives slowly out onto the road again. Dean follows him. He wonders what place the vampire is going to pick. Is this really a smart idea? What if the vampire decides that outing the supernatural world is a good idea by killing a whole bunch of innocent people? Dean wouldn’t be surprised. At this point in his life, shit can’t get much worse, and having to deal with a population of panicky civilians would be the cherry on cake. 

If the vampire decides to go through with that little plan of his, Dean hopes that he picks a seedy bar. There won’t be too many people there on a weekday, he thinks. And if he’s wrong, which he’s hoping he is, he can always get a drink. Hey, a man can dream, right?

Unfortunately, the vampire pulls up to an ordinary 24 hour diner. Awesome. Dean parks a few spaces away from the white van. God, that thing is creepy. The vampire trudges out and nods his head towards the door. “C’mon, brother.” He says simply before walking towards the entrance. Dean doesn’t take that word lightly, and wonder what makes the vampire think that he can. 

The diner isn’t as public as Dean hoped. There are three other people besides the waitress and the cook in the diner. A couple in a booth, talking in whispers, and an old man at the counter, sipping his coffee and reading the paper. Awful late for that, Dean thinks. 

The vampire slips into one of the booths and Dean does the same of that he’s sitting across from the monster. This is really weird. Weirder than eating lunch with a demon. He’s not even sure if vampires eat anything outside of blood. 

“So,” The vampire clasps his hands together and smiles sheepishly. Even though he’s a pretty big guy, Dean would have never guessed that he was a vampire if he didn’t have all the evidence. The guy is like a big teddy bear. “Guess I should start with the name. Again. It’s Benny.”

Dean snorts and looks out the window. Benny the vampire. He couldn’t have guessed that if he tried.

“You really don’ remember, do you?” The vampire sounds like he can’t believe it. “Purgatory? It’s not an easy place to forget.” 

“I’m not even sure Purgatory exists,” Dean says. “Still debating on the existence of Heaven, too.”

“Even with that angel of yours?” 

Dean glares at Benny. “If you mean Castiel, he not my angel.” He actively held back the truth from Dean alongside Sam.

Benny raises a brow. “That’s surprising. Seeing as you spent months and months searching for ‘em relentlessly in Purgatory,” The vampire looks a little annoyed. “And then insisted that he come with us to the emergency exit.” 

That might have been Dean before, but that’s not him now. And apparently, he didn’t know the angel well enough. Castiel was a liar, and obviously favored Sam more than him if he was listening to him. “He’s not my angel.” He says again, this time with more of a bite. 

A waitress comes around, and Benny just takes a water, while Dean orders waffles. He’s hungry, so he might as well eat. After the waffles, he’s planning on a slice of that delicious looking pie in the display case. Dean deserves that slice of pie. 

“I can tell you what I know,” Benny offers. “But I’m afraid I don’t know much more than what happened in Purgatory.” 

And he does. Benny tells him how the vampire himself ended up in the monster hell. He talked about what it was like to fight day, after day, after day. There was little rest in the endless forest. There wasn’t an escape either. “A tiredness started to set into your bones after killing all those monsters,” Benny tells him. “You begin to wonder if there’s an after to the afterlife, and if it’s better than the endless mess.” 

Then, Benny hears rumors. Whispers of a human in the dark forests. A hunter. Benny says that he heard a hunter was looking for an angel, and killing anyone and anything that didn’t have the answer he wanted. Dean focuses on his waffles during this part of Benny’s story. He doesn’t like to think he he looked so hard for someone who later betrayed him. 

The story takes a turn when Benny goes on about how they met. How he knew that there was a way out of Purgatory, and he offered to show Dean if he promised to take him. They apparently became a sort of team. Benny even put up with Dean looking high and low for Castiel, and when they found him, putting up with an angel on their team. 

From their, Benny describes their journey as tumultuous, as the angel was being hunted by the leviathan. Dean finally gets a bit of information on them too, and how they were once released, only to be put back into Purgatory by the very angel who released them. They are also the reason why Dean got sent to the hell hole in the first place. Benny never found out why Castiel thought it was a good idea to release them in the first place, which frustrates Dean. Luckily, at this point, he’s got his pie to distract him.

Once at the exit, Dean allowed Benny’s… spirit inside him, so that he could travel through the exit. Castiel reportedly stayed behind, and Benny looks surprised, but uncaring that he got out. To prove his story, he points out the mostly faded scar on Dean’s forearm. He doesn’t want to believe Benny, but he does.   
A fucking vampire is the first one to tell him anything. It makes Dean stupid with anger. 

“So, you a couple years behind?” Benny says after their little conversation. Musta been some bump to the head there, brother.” 

Dean laughs a little, surprising himself. “Guess I’m a little rusty. Broke my arm on top of it, too.” 

The vampire looks contemplative, then smiles a little. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’ve been doin’ back on this side of earth,” Benny admits. Dean tilts his head a little and frowns. He’s not sure where he’s going with this. “Maybe you got the right idea, huntin’ monsters. Just like the good ole’ days but with rest in between.”

Dean nods. Maybe he was better off in Purgatory, too. 

“What do you say we team up again?” Benny says. He’s smiling, but he has a serious look in his eye. “S’all I know now, and you’re quarreling with your angel. Seems to me like the thing to do until we figure things out.”

It’s crazy. Dean should say no. He barely knows this vampire.

…Although, he has a feeling that he does know him. He hasn’t said anything, but he thinks he got a few flashes of Purgatory out of that story. Benny was telling the truth, and he knows it. So he smiles back.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, but you got yourself a deal.” And that’s how Dean found himself a new hunting partner, and a companion that he could actually rely on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'm tired. I guess you guys are tired, too. Tired of waiting! Part of my absence has been laziness, but another part has been struggling with severe depression. I really am sorry, but I wanted this to be okay. 
> 
> Also, I was stuck on where to go next, but I have PLENTY of ideas for the next chapter, and where and when this story might end. 
> 
> I haven't replied to ANY of the comments last time, so I'm going to do that right after this is posted. Also, thank you for being patient. Again, I'm really, really sorry. If you want to keep up with updates, or see if I AM updating (and maybe a sneak preview from time to time), please follow me on tumblr under the username Nerdkingdean. Thank you!


	8. Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, things will be easy. But it is not this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO TIRED. SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG. NEW UPDATE. AND UH... OTHER EXCUSES. WILL REPLY TO COMMENTS TOMORROW.
> 
> Beta'd by: pacificriminal. Give her your love! I know I do <333

Dean returns to the motel room and throws the file on the desk. Then, he closes the door and stuffs the towel under it. The windows are covered with cardboard, a do not disturb sign is hanging from the doorknob, and there are bloodbags in the refrigerator; this is what it is like to work with a vampire on a supernatural case. It took some time to get used to, and even longer for Dean to get rid of the machete under his pillow (just in case), but he’s enjoying being back out on the road again.

This, he decides, is all he’s pretty much good for anyway. He’s just glad to have a partner again. Hunting without a partner... is, well, lonely. And Benny gets him. He’s pretty sure that they did work together in Purgatory.

Working with Benny isn't as hard as he thought it was going to be. They both kind of shared a similar view of the world; That is was worth protecting, but they weren't quite a part of it. Better that they make themselves useful and kill some evil sons of bitches while they're still kicking. 'Course, Benny does need fuel from time to time. Dean makes sure that they stop at a hospital every once in awhile so he can pick up some blood bags.

It's not like the hospital always uses all of them anyway. They'll need it all sometimes, sure, but blood only lasts two weeks before it expires. Benny needs blood too, and this way, it doesn't go to waste. Besides, he only takes what he needs. The bare minimum, he promised Dean the very first time snuck into Mercy Hospital a few states back.

They fall into a natural routine. Dean acts as the FBI agent, while Benny goes sniffing around looking for anything that goes bump in the night. It sucks that he doesn't have a partner during the day, but this works for them. They've already killed a werewolf who was on some sort of sugar high, a nest of vampires (which Benny doesn't like mentioning), and a rugaroo.

Benny'll smile after each case that's finished. “Just like ole' times, brother," He said once. Dean believes him. He kinda likes hearing about what went down in Purgatory; all the nasties they took down. Although, there are some parts of the story that freaks him out. Dean apparently got real good at asking various monsters questions. He knows he's a good hunter, but since when did he use torture so easily? So willingly? Must be something he picked up in those five years.

Benny looks up from what he was doing, clearly interested in what he has to say. "We're definitely working with a shapeshifter, Benny," Dean informs him. "This one likes playing games with 'FBI agents though. I'm the fifth one to show up for questioning. It's like the shapeshifter is hunting /us/!" Dean says, frustrated. The first murder was pretty classic shapeshifter; Some one stole from a jewelry store, then the body was found later- without the jewels. From then on, hunters must've been coming here to solve the case, but for some reason, this shapeshifter has been a hassle to take out.

He ain't worried. shapeshifters he's taken out more than once. He remembers the one that he had to kill inside a bank, while the real FBI were all outside, waiting to arrest his ass. Good times. 

"We been hunted plenty of times before," Benny points out dryly. According to Benny, back in Purgatory, they were constantly being followed by various monsters. Some with grudges, some without. One particular monster- the Leviathan, definitely had it out for one of them. Cas... Dean's still wondering how an angel somehow ended up in Purgatory, and with such a massive enemy, but he doesn't ask, and Benny doesn't know anyway. Better to just leave that part of his life behind him now.

He's three weeks into this new life, and you know what? He's doing just fine without Sam OR Cas, thank you very much. Dean hasn't even been thinking about either of them, or what they're doing, or even if they are looking for him.

“Right. And it never stops bein’ fun, does it?” He smiles.

Dean opens the mini fridge and pulls out a beer. Benny eyes him silently before going back to counting for the weapons and caring for the guns. For a vampire, the man really seems to enjoy using weapons rather than his cursed strength and speed. Dean doesn’t really care how the job gets done as long as it does and as long as Benny keeps his yap shut about Dean’s drinking, He’s fine.

“So we wait until it gets a bit darker, less busy on the streets, and then we head down to the sewers. Seems pretty straight forward. You good with silver?” Dean suggests. Benny reaches into his jacket and pulls out an old pretty silver knife. Dean doesn’t ask where he got it. “Then we’re good to go.”

“Don’t want to go rushing into this too fast, brother,” Benny places the gun next to him on the bed, seemingly done with cleaning it. “Three or more hunters possibly died on this case. There’s a reason why these folks are dyin’ and I’m willing to bet that they didn’t just get caught off guard. Not all in a row. Something is different here.”

That much is true, Dean knows. He isn’t dumb and he can handle this. Obviously, this shapeshifter has been around awhile, and it knows how hunters work. The thing is though, both he and Benny have had their fair share amount of weird. So whatever is going on in this little town, Dean is sure that a vampire and a veteran hunter can take care of it no problem.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, man,” Dean says before he takes another swig of his beer and grins widely. “You got my back and I got yours.” He goes over to the bed and inspects a silver knife that he nicked from some old lady’s home a few years back. She won’t be missing it, and he figures that it’s a small payment after he saved her life, so fair is fair.

“If you say so.” Benny is not one to argue, Dean’s noticed. Instead, he just gets real quiet and gives the ‘I told you so’ look when applicable. Dean really hopes that tonight won’t be one of those cases. It’s a small hunt. He can handle it.

Shapeshifters, though. That brings back memories. He tips the beer bottle back and finishes the rest of it off. That was one of the first cases he took on with Sammy a while ago, right? Yeah, that’s what got them, or him to be more specific, into a shit load of trouble with the law. He wonders if they’re still on America’s Most Wanted. Given their luck, probably are. Cas is probably stuck on that list too. He laughs. They /would/ be the one to put an angel on the run.

He blinks. There’s a weird flash of a memory. Cas running in the woods. That’s been happening a lot lately. Little… images. Out of place memories. Dean used to think his memory was coming back to him, but would it really be so broken? It doesn’t really make sense. No, it’s probably nothing . Just his imagination at work again.

At this point though, he’s not so sure he wants his memory back. He has a feeling that Sam was keeping more than just the deaths of his family and friends secret. A lot can happen in five or six years. More than anything… Dean just wants to move on. To forget that he forgot anything.

 

He misses Sam. Strangely, he misses Cas too.

Dean finishes his beer and reaches for another. A hunt is going to be good for him. He’ll be able to save some people. And maybe even give himself some peace of mind for a few hours, as fucked up as that is. Drinking just isn’t doing that as well as it used to anymore. 

-

As soon as the sun goes down, he and Benny are ready to start working. Dean's been itching to find out what kind of shapeshifter can take down two different pairs of hunters. Maybe they're evolving, or have evolved since before the accident. It'll definitely be something to add to the journal. He's been reading it over again, as if it held answers to the world's everyday problems, too.

It didn't.

Dean drives to the edge of town, not really wanting to explain to a cop why he plans to go through the sewers. To Dean, a cop is just another civilian. He's just got a shiny badge.

"We're here," Dean parks not too far from the entrance and opens the door. He pops the trunk open and gets out all the supplies he'll be needing. Benny, the lucky bastard, doesn't need as much.

They only look at each other and nod before entering the sewers.

Somehow, going through the dark, mucky sewers feels pretty good. A lot like the old days. Pure. He has his silver knife in hand, pointing away from his bod, A flashlight in the other. Benny is similarly equipped, sans the flashlight. Dean feels most comfortable doing this than anything else now a days. Hunting is the ultimate distraction.

"Don't wanna stay down here too long, Brother," Benny warns. "The sun is coming up soon. We should finish this quick."

Dean agrees with his logic, but he ain't really in the mood to stop hunting. It's a good thing he has another hunt lined up right after this. If he were with Sam, his brother would go on and on about his erratic, crazy behavior. Well, Sam's not here right now, and he can do whatever the hell he wants. At least he's honest about that.

"Split up?" Dean asks. He'd be worried if he was someone else, but Benny can definitely handle himself. One of the perks of being a vampire, he's heard, is that he's equally scary as those that dwell in the sewers. Dean's pretty okay with that, if you ask him.

"Meet back here in thirty. If something goes wrong-"

"Relax," Dean says with an easy grin. "It's not like we're rookies. We got this. See you soon." Benny nods, and Just like that, they both split up.

-

The sounds of water dripping echo throughout the tunnels. Dean keeps expecting to walk over some used, slimy skin. Thankfully, he hasn't. That does tend to make shapeshifters harder to find though. He sighs.

His flashlight flickers on and off. Once, twice, then it dies.

"Awesome," He mutters to himself. Dean turns a corner, slightly more cautious than before. Without the light, his footsteps seem louder, and the quiet seems all the more engulfing. Shit. Why is it that anytime something supernatural is around, the lights go dead? Around ghosts, yeah, but everything else it's just him being the unluckiest bastard around. Fuck.

Dean pauses.

The sound of someone running comes from down the tunnel. He braces himself, the silver knife at the ready. When the figure appears from around the corner, Dean nearly drops the knife.

"Cas?"

Even in the darkness of the sewers, Dean knows that it’s him. He can tell from the way he holds himself- as if he’s bigger than the body he’s in. The silhouette of his body is only a few paces away, which is different, but Dean is relieved. No more of that too-closeness he did back at the bunker. The fallen angel looks completely disheveled. His hair is flattened against his forehead, sweat slicked, clothes covered in grime and sewer water.

"...Dude, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Dean?" He sighs and takes a few steps closer to him, almost too close. "I was hunting the shapeshifter. It's... stronger than I initially anticipated." Cas looks away, frowning into the distance. What a drama queen.

Gotta be careful, Dean thinks. No flashlight means a I can't check if he's actually a shapeshifter or not. Better to play along until I get back to Benny. He knows what's human and what isn't. The biggest thing that has Dean worried is that Cas is unarmed. Either he dropped his weapon while running, or the shapeshifter got the best of him. It's impossible for Dean to figure out which one is more likely- he doesn't remember how good a hunter Cas is.

“Okay, well. Benny’s here. Let’s just get back to him, alright? We’ll hunt this shapeshifter down together.” Dean suggests, looking closely for any reaction that might indicate that the person in front of him isn’t Castiel.

“That sounds like a plan,” Castiel says slowly. He brings his dirty hands to his face to try and wipe away all the dirt, but only manages to smear everything around his face. “Lead the way.”

Benny told him all about their adventures in purgatory. That includes how they found Cas. Cas knows Benny. His indifferent expression really concerns Dean. Dean knows that the two didn’t get along as well as he wanted them too. So the thing he’s probably walking with is the monster. …He’s not positive, though. Fuck, his memories would really come in handy right about now. He makes sure that he walks next to Cas instead of in front of him. That’ll give him some time to block any attacks if it comes to it.

It’s pretty quiet, and the farther they go, the more suspicious Dean gets. He gets the feeling that Cas would say something about Dean’s disappearance. About how sorry he and Sam are from keeping things from him. His fingers itch to use the silver knife in his hand. It would be so easy to just kill the shapeshifter and be done with it. But he can’t. Not without being sure.

When he stands in the spot to meet Benny, he immediately knows that something is wrong. The vampire is punctual, yet he’s not here yet. Dean turns quickly. It’s not like he can call for his friend when they are on a hunt. Shit. This really isn’t a good situation to be in.

He hears fighting in the distance. Oh yeah, definitely not a good situation.

However, he knows for sure now. The person next to him is definitely Castiel, the former angel. While that relieves him, it also pisses him off. What the hell? Just cause they are on a hunt, Cas can’t ask how he’s doing? What a douche. But fuck it. This falls under the category of ‘Dean doesn’t care’. He doesn’t. It was clear from the beginning that Cas and Sam were only thinking about saving themselves from some emotional trauma on Dean’s part.

Cas and Dean start going towards the fighting. The sooner they save Benny and kill this pain in the ass shapeshifter, the sooner they can part ways again. As predicted, Benny is fighting a shapeshifter who looks exactly like Cas. It’s still difficult to process. They look insanely alike that it’s hard to watch them hurt one another.

He doesn’t watch for long. Dean starts running towards the shapeshifter but finds himself on the ground a second later, his back hurting from where he was kicked. He turns, his silver knife in hand pointed up at Cas.

“What the hell, man?”

“They’re both shapeshifters!” Benny proclaims.   
Oh. Shit.

Dean stands up as quick as he can, missing the sight of Benny punching the second shapeshifter across the face. It sounds like a good punch though. Dean smiles. Out of the frying pan, he thinks. Into the fire.

The small bit of light flashes across Cas-fake #1 and it’s eyes glow an eerie silver. One thing is really starting to bug him now.

“What did you do with him?” He asks, walking the vampire away from Benny’s fight. It’s better if they do this one on one.

If monsters are teaming up- especially the ones that usually go solo, it could spell a lot of trouble for the remaining hunters.

The shapeshifter suddenly flips Dean over, and he gets a taste of his own medicine via a hard punch across the face. His head feels a little fuzzy, and his vision ain't doing so well either. Shit. How's Benny doing? Dean struggles to get up, but the shapeshifter kicks him in the chest and he lets out a groan. Man, he really fucked up on this case, what with Benny being caught off guard by Tweedle Dee and Dean falling for Tweedle Dumb’s act. He really should have suspected something like that was going on. Instead, he’s going to die like this. 

Well, probably, anyway.

Couldn't he have gotten some of his memories back while he was at a motel room, drinking a beer?

He looks to his right and oops, his silver knife is inches away from his hand. Great. Well, if Benny lives, he'll keep on hunting. That's a bit of a relief. Dean looks up at the Cas double. "Two pretty faces in a row. It's my lucky day."

Dean hears footsteps coming from down the tunnel. Oh, good. Benny remembers him. /Great/ timing on his part. Unless it's the shapeshifters buddy. In which case, fuck.

The shapeshifter appears as if it readies for it's final blow when it stops and looks down at it's chest. It sputters, blood appearing on it's dry lips. Dean didn't even hear the gunshot. They're too loud. He and Benny didn't even bring one.

From a few feet away stands Castiel in his underwear and an undershirt. He looks bruised up, and has a scratch or two, but looks unharmed otherwise. Slowly, he lowers the gun and lets out a sigh.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean lets his head fall back against the ground. Fuck it. He needs a shower anyway. Honestly, he's not sure whether he wanted to see Cas yet. Not after remembering some stuff. He feels a bit like that dude from Quantum Leap with the swiss cheese memory. Now that he knows how hard he looked for him in Purgatory, and how fucking devastated he felt when the angel turned into Leviathan, how the fuck can he act like he doesn't know that?

Part of him realizes that yeah, Cas and Sam did the same exact thing, but so what? Those are his memories to hold in, not theirs. If he doesn’t want to tell them that he remembers, then whose fault is that really?

Cas comes closer and inspects Dean. The little spots that were dancing in his field of vision finally swim away.

"Are you alright?" Cas asks, concern clear in his eyes. Man, has no one taught this guy about personal space?

"'M fine." Dean says, but doesn't object when Cas helps him to his feet. He stumbles forward a little, but feels okay to walk on his own. "The hell are you doing here?" He asks. "Don't tell me you were hunting these things by yourself." Stupid bastard. Hunters are better off with partners. Everyone knows that.

"...I was. I did not think that the shapeshifters would combine forces. It is not in their nature,"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean mumbles.

A moment later and Benny has caught up to them.

"The real Castiel, I take it? Better be." Dean definitely agrees that one is more than enough.

"Yes," Cas nods solemnly. "I apologize. They used my suspicions against me, and predicted your arrival."

So, wait. Cas was looking for him all this time? Dean was sure that he didn't use any of the aliases he normally used so that Sam couldn't get to him. He guesses it makes sense that Cas figured out that he could find Dean by hunting. Fewer cases means a higher chance of being found. Awesome.

"Well, isn't this touching. The ole' gang, back together." Benny says, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Cas glares at him. Yeah, Dean remembers the fun of their cattiness, too.

"Quit your bitchin'," Dean snaps. "Lets get outta here and figure this out."

Cas sighs and looks away. "I need to gather my clothes, first."

"You do that." Dean agrees, as Cas walks away.

Benny shakes his head. "In Purgatory I get why you needed him. But I ain't looking forward to having another partner, Dean”.

Dean nods. "Yeah, I know. But I gotta hear what happened these past few years, man. It's killing me that I don't know."

"Okay. You figure that out." Benny is a pretty fair guy, Dean thinks. He's glad he finds an ally in him. Even if he doesn't get along with Cas, he knows that he'd put up with him in the end. And Dean does intend to keep him around this time. As long as it takes to get the answers he knows he deserves.


	9. Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, Dean wonders if Sam and Cas were right about the whole keeping his past secret. Discovering the truth from the horse's mouth sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I SUCK AT UPDATING. I hope to update at least one more time before November, as I will be participating in NaNoWriMo. I also have another (shorter) fic being written. I don't know how cool you guys will be with it??? Sorry I suck. I know. I'M SORRY  
> Also, Sam's dog's name has changed to Lady. Um, gentle reminder that this is AU from about the middle of season 8. Enjoy?

Dean rides back with Benny, while Cas is driving his own vehicle. Cas, apparently, stole and drove his own car all the way up here. Who would have thought that an ex-angel would so freely steal? Dean's almost proud. Although, he does have to wonder who the hell had the patience to teach him how to drive. There's got to be videos or something of that somewhere. He's sure they are hilarious.

The mood in the car is pretty awkward. Dean has to switch on the music after only three minutes. The silence is really getting to him. Benny is sort of taciturn, but he ain't the type to keep things to himself when they are important... He thinks. 

Benny can't hate Cas that much, can he?

Dean switches the music back off. 

"Talk to me, man," Dean says, not taking his eyes off the road. The sky is starting to shift from the dark blue colour to something a bit brighter. He starts speeding up. Sometimes he forgets that Benny is what he is. "Why're you acting so weird?"

Benny sighs through his nose. Dean knows that he's going to be sucking down more blood than usual lately- so long as it's dumped in a glass of whiskey. Gross. "Not to point fingers, brother, but I'm not the one actin' strange."

Dean frowns. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

There is a short pause before Benny responds, "You weren't too happy with your angel last we spoke. Now he shows up in shining armor, and you've made a 180? I'm just wondering what caused the change." There isn't any judgement in his voice, only confusion. 

Now it's Dean's turn to sigh. He can't really explain how he feels more relaxed knowing that Cas is around. That doesn't mean that all that anger has suddenly evaporated. "I remembered Purgatory," He admits quickly. "Some other things too. Mostly flashes. It ain't really concrete." 

Benny 'hmms'. 

"If I send him away now, it could be weeks before I see him again. And to be completely honest... I think Sam's the one who told him not to say anything," Dean hates accusing his brother of something like that, but Cas was the one who was hinting about his past more than his brother. Sam had just avoided the subject altogether. 

"You think he's gonna tell you now that your brother ain’t in the way to shut him up?" Benny asks, turning to look at him. He sounds skeptical. 

"Yeah, I do," Dean's grip on the wheel tightens, turning his knuckles white. "He's going to tell me." Because otherwise, Dean is not going to want anything to do with Cas ever again. Even if he does remember the devastation of leaving the angel behind in Purgatory. If he thinks about it, he can still feel his hand in his own, slipping away. Dean tried so fucking hard to save him.

Yeah, Den thinks to himself. Cas is going to tell me. I deserve it. I need to know everything that's happened. About my family. 

He turns the music on once more. Every time he thinks about Ellen and Jo and Bobby and whatever other people he might have cared about, he feels sick. How did they die? Hopefully, not like Ash did. Dean isn't sure how many deaths he's responsible for. He doesn't want that number to rise. But if he is at fault, then he should shoulder it, he should know. It isn't fair to his family to just forget. 

Benny seems to be getting annoyed at Dean for turning the music off and on. Guess he better keep it on this time. Eh. He's not really in the mood to talk more than they already have. It's exhausting, and he figures that he's going to be doing a lot more talking tomorrow. 

-  
It quiet, peaceful. The kind of environment he’s not entirely used to yet. Sam sort of wonders if he ever will be. Especially since he’s found someone to share it with. He’s so, so grateful for Maya. There are few other girls out there that could understand the kind of things he’s been through. And though she can’t imagine the lengths he’s went, how badly the job has screwed him up, she knows to be there for him and to let him have his quiet, crazy moments.

Finally, finally, the call comes in at four in the morning. Sam yawns and flips his phone open. "Cas?" 

"I found him," Yeah, that's Cas. 

"You did?" Sam sits up, accidentally waking Maya up. She stares up at him, annoyed at first, but then concerned when she realizes who must be on the phone and why. "Where? Is he okay?"

"Yes. In fact, he assisted me in taking out a shapeshifter," There's a sigh. "Two shapeshifters." 

"Two?" Sam echoes. “That doesn’t sound right. Don’t they travel alone? The hell happened?" The questions come pouring out, and it’s difficult to stay in bed. His instincts are screaming at him to run to the computer and figure out if there are other monsters out there behaving oddly.

"The important thing is that Dean is safe. In better condition than I imagined, even," There's a pause. Sam can almost hear the frustration over the phone. "He is with Benny. I imagine he found the non-pattern his old friend used and tried to hunt him down."

Oh, shit. Sam doesn't like the fact that Dean has been spending all this time with the vampire. Even if he did save his and Bobby's life once. Dean must trust the vampire even more now. Benny probably told him everything that happened in Purgatory. If Benny didn't sugarcoat the horrors that went down there... well. Sam's starting to feel like he really made the worst decision ever. 

All those theories about him keeping Dean's past from himself? Sam was wrong. He knew all along that it was for his own selfish desires. How could he apologize for Ruby, the demon blood, starting the apocalypse, and leaving his brother in Purgatory all at once? It's too much. 

"Sam."

"Sorry, what?"

"I do not blame you," Castiel says almost softly. "That's what you're thinking, correct?" 

Even without his mojo, Castiel was scary-perceptive. 

"Look, man-"

"I realize it was difficult to go through what you have already done once. Gaining forgiveness a second time might have seemed impossible. However," Sam thinks he hears Cas take a deep breath. Maybe he's saying all this for himself, too. "This /is/ Dean we are talking about. Has he not forgiven every single time?"

That's true, yes. Sam knows that. It doesn’t mean he deserves it.

"We shouldn't have kept everything from Dean. Let's... do the right thing this time. I'm sure that all the forgiving that Dean has done is just as tiresome."

Maya must have heard, because she nods. She starts running her fingers through his hair, and it's soothing. Sam purses his lips, unable to say anything more on the subject. "Text me where you guys are."

"Of course." 

"Not while you're driving, though!" Sam remembers to add. Sometimes, Cas forgets that he's not superhuman and can't see everything all around him at once. 

"Goodbye, Sam." The frustrated tone makes Sam laugh a little. He says goodbye, then hangs up and places the phone on the nightstand where it's been every night since Dean has disappeared. 

The thing is, Sam and Cas have been working together. Sam does have a life here with Maya and his dog, Lady, a boxer/border collie mix. He's planning on going back to school once he's gotten the papers and some money saved up. But even though he's here, every single free moment he's had has been spent on the computer, looking for hunts that Dean was likely to take. The whole time, Sam and Castiel have been working together. 

Unfortunately, that meant that Cas had to take some cases by himself. But Sam has... sort of accidentally started playing Bobby's role in the whole research department thing. Just for Cas. Other hunters have Garth but... this really is the family business. There's no escape. But this time, Sam has finally figured a way to work it into the life he's wanted all along. 

Maya looks at him. He finds the strength in her dark brown eyes comforting. 

"You gotta face this head on, Sam," She says quietly. "This isn't something that's going to go away anytime soon." 

Sam looks down. He knows that she's right, but how can he go and ask Dean to forgive him again? And again and again and again? It seems that's all he's ever done. 

“I know that,” He says glumly. “Even if he does remember everything, he’ll know that I didn’t tell him when I should have.”

“Yeah. That was pretty stupid,” Maya says with a small laugh. He knows that she didn’t laugh to be mean, but it still stings a little. “But you can still make things right. He’s your brother. You always said that you wanted to pay him back for all the things he’s done for you. Now your chance. He needs you. Castiel can’t do this by himself. And even if he could, Dean will want you there.” 

She’s right. Sam’s mouth quirks. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Maybe I’ll tell him all about how he did the same shit to me.” He laughs. In that respect, they’ll be even. Although to be fair, Sam was soulless. What he did during that period was terrible, but he didn’t really lose anything. And it wasn’t years of life that he lost, either. 

But he really shouldn’t have repeated that mistake. That’s on him. 

“I’ll go. Might not be back for a while.”

Maya nods. “I figured as much. Just remember to take days off at work. They won’t appreciate it if you just up and disappear.” She settles back into bed. “Not everyone has my kind of tolerance.”

Sam smiles. Having this plan of going to meet Dean takes this weight off his shoulders. He’s been waiting to do this, he realizes. Sam shouldn’t have needed the push, but now that he’s gotten it, there’s no stopping him now.

-

The next morning is even more awkward than the night before. It’s quiet. Uncomfortable. Benny is asleep. Somehow, Dean doesn’t think that’s an accident. Asshole. 

Dean sits at the table drinking a beer. Almost as if on schedule, Cas walks in. He looks at Dean and sighs heavily. Like he has a right to be stressed about seeing Dean. It’s definitely the other way around. 

“Hello, Dean,”

That phrase is too familiar. Cas never said it in purgatory. No, only his name. Dean remembers that he was never supposed to find Cas in the monster wasteland. That was for his own good, too.

Dean takes a long, healthy swig of his beer. “Hey, Cas.”

This is so not something he wants to do. He walked away from them for a reason. Yeah. He doesn’t expect Sam to be coming by anytime soon. Not with his house and his dog and his girlfriend and fancy fucking life. 

“I have to apologize.” Cas starts, making his way to the too small table that all motels seem to have. 

“Do you?” Apologies ain’t going to cut it here. They kept Bobby’s death from him. Jo and Ellen. It’s like they didn’t even matter at all to them. 

“Yes,” Dean suddenly remembers that Cas was never really good at the whole sarcasm thing. “You went to hell. I never prevented that.”

Dean turns his head so sharply he gets dizzy. “What?” 

“That scar on your shoulder is left over from me dragging you out of the pit. My trueform seared a brand into your skin. I could have healed it, but I didn’t,” Cas is talking slowly, deliberately. It’s making him kind of crazy. 

“So…” Dean looks back down at his hands. He’s clutching the beer bottle so hard that his knuckles are turning white. Fuck. He did go to hell. All those dreams… they were memories after all. Somehow, he’s not surprised. He’s been sure that something was up. The thing was, he didn’t want to look too close. Dean’s soul had been damned to hell. And he got out. The why will have to come later. “That was a fucking lie, too. Do you or Sam think I’m a kid? I can handle the truth, dammit.”

Cas sits across from him. He looks so intense. Dean doubts that he’s ever seen him look relaxed, or laid back. It’d look weird as hell. “Yes, it was a lie. Sam urged me to keep everything a secret. However, I don’t think you should place the blame entirely on your brother,” He pauses, and looks away for a moment. “But you don’t, do you?”

“You bet your ass I do,” Dean snarls. “You had plenty of chances to tell me. Hundreds, even.” If they were really friends, Cas definitely would have said something before Dean ran out. If Cas was his friend, he would have known that Dean would have taken off to find out for himself sooner or later. Things would have been so much easier if he just told him.

Except Cas doesn’t look like he agrees. At least, not completely. The frown deepens. Dean leans back as the fallen angel leans forward. “Hundreds of chances?” He says quietly. Even as a human, the man managed to convey power that he once held.”You barely knew me Dean. You trust your brother, not me. Who would you have believed, had I told you that Bobby died?”

It was hard enough to hear it from Garth, especially considering the fact he was living in his house, wearing his clothes, and saying his words. “Oh, yeah. That definitely means you shouldn’t explain shit at all. Sorry I didn’t see your get-out-of-jail-free card.” 

Instead of getting angrier, like Dean was kind of hoping he would, Castiel just sighs and leans back. He shakes his head. “I did… try to leave hints. You seem to forget- uhm, ‘no pun intended’, that we were once friends. For reasons that weren’t entirely altruistic, I wanted you to remember. Even the death of your friends and family.” 

Dean grits his teeth. For a split second, he wishes he had that ignorance back. Pretend that all those instincts and alarm bells going off are just paranoia. “Too bad you didn’t give into your whims a little sooner.”

“Hell, Dean. It was never an easy topic… For either of you. At one point, Sam ended up in the Pit as well.” 

His angry expression shatters for a moment. No, no, no, no. Not Sammy. Sam was never supposed to- I saved him. The angry expression returns with a full vengeance. “What the fuck happened!?” 

“He saved the world,” Castiel says. It’s driving him nuts that he’s keeping his calm now. “Lucifer sprung free from his cage. Of course, that never would have happened had your brother listened to your warnings, and steered clear from Ruby,” Another pause. It’s a damned good thing, too. Dean’s head is spinning. Lucifer? Ruby? What the fuck? Cas can’t mean the devil. “Though I should mention that I encouraged Sam to do Ruby’s bidding. Then, I was only a henchman to the angels.”

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Dean says quickly. That whole web of… whatever tale Cas is telling is way too much. He gets up and goes to the fridge to pull out another couple of beers. Don’t get him wrong, he is still seriously pissed at Cas- but at least he is finally getting some answers. Confusing answers, but answers nonetheless. 

He sits back down and stares at Cas. The angel tilts his head and Dean gets a flash of… something. Not exactly a memory, but a feeling. It’s weird. “Dean?” 

“Don’t bitch to me about this. I need this right now,” He opens the beer and takes a long swig. So far, he doesn’t feel any better. He’s tempted to drink the entire thing and drink the other one already. Fuck. “Alright. Start from Hell,” Dean demands. 

“Dean?”

“Look man,” Dean cuts Cas off before he can get any farther with his stupid, unappreciated worry. “I’m trusting you to tell me. And you know what? It’s a stupid decision, but you’re the only one. So do us both a favor, and start from hell. We’re not moving from this table until you’ve caught up to the present.” 

Cas opens his mouth and looks down at his hands. Both he and Dean know that if he doesn’t tell him what’s up, it’s over, even if Dean gets all his memories back. He sighs quietly, then looks back up. 

“Time in Hell is different than time on Earth,” Castiel starts. “Despite the fact that it was only a few months in this realm, you were tortured for forty years.” 

Things don’t look up from there. Not by a long shot. 

After a few hours, and three beers between them, the story of Dean Winchester, age 30-35 was over. Heaven, Hell, Michael and Lucifer. Souls, Leviathan, and then, of course, Purgatory. After that it only seemed fitting that they went ahead and closed the doors to Hell and Heaven. There’s so much blood smeared and splattered in the details of his history. 

Dean should feel better knowing everything that has happened, but he couldn’t feel any worse. All the angels are trapped behind the gates. What does that mean for souls now, he wonders. Do they really all just die now? Knowing what he does about Heaven and Hell, he thinks that might actually be a better alternative. 

It’s quiet for a long moment. He’s grateful for that. Dean needs a moment to collect his thoughts. Everything he’s heard feels so distant, like it was a movie he saw years and years ago, or a friend telling him about a book. A really bad, fucked up book. 

He almost laughs when he remembers that it actually is a book. The Supernatural Series. Fucking hell. Maybe he should pick up a few copies,see what the fuck was going through his head during half the shit Cas was telling him. Hearing from himself (or Chuck, the dead prophet), might help clear some things up. 

“Dean?” Cas asks quietly. He’s looking down again. Even though Dean finds all this hard to take in, he believes Cas. The dude didn’t leave anything out, including his own betrayals. It wasn’t great to hear, but Cas did promise the truth. 

“What?” He deadpans. At the moment, he’s not entirely sure what he’s feeling. It ain’t a good feeling, and he’s sure he’s not angry. Not now, at least. 

“There’s something else,” The tone of his voice defines his emotion: nervous. Fuck. 

“What?” He asks again. 

“Before the hunt that stole your memories, you…” He breathes in through his nose. It looks like Cas wants to look up. Since he doesn’t, it only makes Dean more anxious. “You kissed me. In that doorway.”

Another long moment. Then, Dean lets out a laugh. The determination doesn’t disappear from Cas’s eyes, but for a second there was deep hurt. His body language even matched with the expression with slumping shoulders and tight fists. The hurt recedes, and the determination takes over completely. Dean recognizes the hard glint in his eyes. Cas is trying to be strong in a moment where it’s impossible to be.

“You’re joking, right?” But from the expression he already knew that, no, Cas wasn’t joking. Does he even know how?

“I have no reason to. It’s what happened.”

Dean grits his teeth. “Why the fuck would I kiss you? We sounded like good friends.”

“If I knew the answer to that, I would tell you,” Cas bites out. For the first time since the beginning of this exhausting conversation, he sounds bitter. 

“Dude, I’m not gay!”

“I wasn’t calling you any sort of sexual orientation!” Cas finally looks up. He looks angry, as well as desperate. It ain’t a good combo. “What I was doing was stating a fact. You said to me that you trusted me to tell you the truth. Everything. So I did. What would you have done if you remembered, but I said nothing?” 

Holy shit. What the fuck is his problem? Dean’s allowed to act a little fucking surprised that he apparently had a hard on for a dude. Again. It didn’t happen often before, okay? Not often enough to have a crisis. It’s not a big deal. “Hope you don’t expect anything now, feathers,” Dean says, maybe a bit creully. 

Castiel shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. His whole body is starting to shake with frustration. And underneath all that anger is pain. Try as he might, Cas is an open book. Looks like the time spent on earth didn’t give him enough practice to mask everything. Not like he can, anyway.

Dean feels satisfied for making him so furious. Finally, he gets a bit of payback.

“You think I’m looking to gain something from this,” It’s so easy to see the tension in him. Dean remembers that it was harder to read Cas back in Purgatory.”You’re wrong. I don’t expect your charity, or your pity. However,” He pauses. “I do not wish to lose what I have. Your friendship, and trust. Or, whatever is left. I was your guardian as an angel, Dean. Losing my mojo didn’t strip me of my purpose, no matter how much you deny it.” 

Dean’s jaw drops. What the fuck- No, Cas can’t demand anything like that. He can’t say that he lost shit the way that Dean did. Except he kind of did, didn’t he? Fuck. Dean opens the last bottle of beer and shakes his head before taking another quick swallow. 

“I need some air,” He says eventually. It’s easy to imagine Cas reaching out, calling his name, telling him to stay. Offer comfort, or some shit like that. But he doesn’t. He stays seated, staring in Dean’s direction, but not really seeing him. Dean just can’t stay here any longer. 

He gets up and leaves the motel room, car keys in hand. There’s just been too much. He gets why, in a way, Sam and Cas wanted to figure out how to say everything. The thing is, there wasn’t a right way to say all that shit. How he got through the last five years is a miracle, though he’s not entirely sure it’s a good miracle. When he went to Hell… he should have stayed there, he thinks. After all, he’s the one who truly started the apocalypse. And Bobby, Ellen, and Jo wouldn’t have suffered. Things would have stayed the way they were. 

On the other hand, Hell and Heaven are sealed up tight. All they got to deal with are the monsters. That’s got to count for something, right? 

He starts up his baby, the only constant in his life. The thought majorly depresses him. Why is it that the only constant thing in his life is a car? Yeah, this is his Baby, but even her company turns stale when it’s just him in the driver’s seat. The road is blessedly clear.

“Okay,” He says out loud. Tonight, he’ll get a drink. Think his life through, and then return to the motel later on. If Benny and Cas haven’t killed each other, then they can figure something out. Despite the little freakout he’s having over his and Cas’s little road trip down memory lane, they’re his friends. His team. They won’t let him down, and he knows it. It’ll be awkward as shit, but if he got past the time he caught Sam masturbating to Casa Erotica on his bed while some chick was taking pictures of him, he can get past anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it i know it's boring. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr at spookykingdean.tumblr.com if you want to yell at me or just follow me or whatever

**Author's Note:**

> So um. I've been working on this one a long while. And it's still not complete. I'm notorious for not finishing fics, but I'm really very serious about this one. It would help if I had some feedback, and even some people kicking my butt to finish. I love writing, but if I feel like my fic isn't worth it, it's often abandoned. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, it means a lot. <3 
> 
> I'll try to update once a week.


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